Orchestra of Breathing
by drecklyn
Summary: If Lavinia had not perished from the Spanish flu, how would life have gone on? The sounds of pain, regret, and love all come together to create one melodic symphony: Mary and Matthew's true lives are a tragic orchestra revolved around breathing.
1. Gone and Regret

Orchestra of Breathing

_How would life have gone on if Lavinia only had a brush with death during her recovery from the Spanish flu, and survived the entire ordeal? Would Mary be able to stand by and watch her one true love be swept off by another woman? Would she even try to stop him? And what of her marriage to Sir Richard? Would Matthew be able to stomach the life Mary would have with Richard, and regret that she could have been his? The sounds of pain, regret, and love all seem to create one melodic symphony: Mary and Matthew's new lives are truly a tragic orchestra revolved around breathing._

_**AN**_**: Hello everyone! I am not new to fanfiction however this is my first story published on this sight, and my first experiment with Downton Abbey, so please bare with me if I fail horribly. Basically this is my take of what I think would have happened if Lavinia had not died from the spanish flu and Matthew and Lavinia married. So grab your cups of sweet tea (yes, sweet tea) and lots of covers to bury all of your angsty emotions. Here we go!**

**p.s: Apologies for the incredible shortness of this chapter. I promise the following ones will be much much longer.**

_C h a p t e r I _

_Gone and Regret_

Mary Josephine Crawley crossed her hands over eachother, playing with a thread of string on her newly purchased white gloves. Her face was twisted into that of her signature "pleased at the world" glance, however she had spent so much time perfecting it in the mirror that morning, that it had lost its realism and proceeded to turn cold and full of regret, reflecting her true feelings to great success. Sir Richard Carlisle, her fiancé in the seat next to her, seemed to notice her grief and did nothing to bring her out of her misery. "They will do well together. I must confess, I have been looking forward to this day for some time," He glanced at her out of the corner of his serpentine eyes.

"Yes I expect you have," Mary replied coldly, adjusting her new frock and turning away from him. There was no trace of sarcasm in her voice, only because she knew his statement was true, the latter at least. He had been looking forward to the wedding of Matthew Crawley and Lavinia Swire simply because it meant that Matthew would become a bound man, and being honorable as he was, would no longer make any more romantic advances upon Mary.

Deciding to distract herself, Mary glanced around at the festivities around her. It really was a beautiful looking wedding, with white and pale blue flowers littered in bouquets amongst the aisles, and the sun was in such a position that it seemed to be a spotlight on the altar, where the couple would wed. People were bustling to their seats, chattering along the way of how lovely the church was, or how perfect the weather seemed to be. It was completely mundane to the emotions racing through Mary. And then she glanced at Matthew and she felt her heart split in two. He was standing up at the altar, talking pleasantly with the minister, his blue eyes glistening, and his blonde hair combed back. His tuxedo was extremely flattering, no matter how uncomfortable he seemed to look in it, and he licked his lips as he turned away from the minister and scanned the crowed. Mary watched as he caught the eye of his mother in the front row and gave her a wink, and then he saw Mary watching him and his lips parted and he turned away.

Before she had the chance to feel embarrassed however, the organ started and everyone stood up in a nervous flurry, adjusting their hats and leaning over eachother, trying to get a glimpse at the procession. There was only one pair of groomsmen and bridesmaid, a bloke the Matthew had been close to in the war and one of Lavinia's friends from London, but they were easily forgotten as they made their way down the aisle in a nervous flutter. Next came Lavinia's niece and nephew, the flower girl being a little more than enthusiastic as she tossed her petals around the aisle, and the ring bearer trudging along beside her, blushing furiously and pushing down his hair with his free hand. And at last, there was a steadfast sigh as Lavinia stepped over the threshold. Her hair was done up in an elegant fashion, the loose parts curled and her lace veil draped over the updo. Her dress seemed to swim over her body, giving even the slightest movement a ripple of lace. The train flowed about three feet behind her, and she gripped to her father's arm, yet still managed to look absolutely stunning. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as she flowed down the aisle with such elegance that she put even the most graceful of swans to shame.

Mary felt completely savage looking compared to her, and she stared at the ground as Lavinia passed by. Of course Matthew would choose Lavinia over her. For heaven's sakes, Mary wouldn't have even chosen herself. Lavinia was beautiful and incredibly nice, with not an ungrateful bone in her body, while with Mary, the former she may be, the latter two she was definitely not.

Lavinia climbed the stairs to the altar, and Matthew gave her such a smile that Mary would have killed to have him look at her like that. When it was finally time for the congregation to sit down, Mary collapsed in her chair with such a feeling of grief that she was afraid she had let out a dry sob, but no funny looks were passed to her, and so she remained stationary, though a battle of heartache was raging in every bone of her body. She sat through the entire wedding, without a cry for it to cease, though her conscious was screaming for her to do so. With every vow her heart split, and until the very last I do, she feared her icy demeanor would crack. It wasn't until the minister pronounced them husband and wife and everyone stood and applauded did she finally feel a great sense of defeat, and the sense stayed with her through the entire proceeding afterwards, all the way to the after party, where her heart ached and seethed as she watched Lavinia dance with the man she had just previously walsed with no fewer than forty-eight hours ago.

And she thought a ghastly thought, wishing that Lavinia had indeed parished from the flu that almost claimed her life, but pushed the thought away in ripe and bitter self-disgust.


	2. Damaged

**AN: Thank you so much for your lovely reviews/story alerts to the first chapter. It sent me skipping around the house for an hour dancing to latin music. So as a treat for being so good, here is the second chapter a little early. I plan to put up chapters maybe once every two days, but there is the off chance that you might see one the very next day if I feel like it. Also, as I forgot to mention it in the last chapter, this story is going to be an alternating POV's between Mary and Matthew. It may include other characters in later chapters, but for now it just involves them. I've also been toying with the rating. I'm not sure if the scene that follow this little introduction will bump it up, I don't go into vast description, so I've decided to leave it as it is. So are you ready for some emotional turmoil, plus lots and lots of steam/passion? I suggest a shower cap, though please don't blame me if it spontaneously combusts. Onto chapter two!**

**Disclaimer: I am not male, a lord, or a saint, thus I'm not Julian Fellowes so therefore the wonderful world of Downton Abbey and all the fantastically sexy amazing characters he creates do not belong to me.**

_Chapter II_

_Damaged_

The candles were all lit when Matthew arrived at Crawley house, bride in tow. The house looked welcoming and helped clear his head as he tried to put out the thought of Mary, sitting in the pew of the church, her heart broken face and the remorse in her eyes. She truly looked damaged, and it hurt him to see her that way, but for the sake of Lavinia, and the sake of himself frankly, he didn't dare approach her about it. She was probably already furious with him as it was, there was no need to ignite her all over again, especially on his wedding day.

_His wedding day._

The mere thought of it sent shivers down his spine, as he glanced at Lavinia, her cheeks red from excitement, as she clung to Matthews arm as he led her to the door of their new home. His mother had invited herself to stay up at the big house for that night and with a small and knowing smile, Cousin Cora had accepted.

He paused at the front door, his hand resting on the doorknob as he turned and bore his eyes into Lavinia's pale blue ones. She beamed up at him, raising a hand and stroking his cheek fondly. "Are you ready my darling?" He asked in a timid voice. For some reason, it felt that as soon as they crossed the threshold of their new abode, everything would be absolute, everything would finally be final. There would be no going back, no second chances, no goodbyes, and certainly no romantic pursuits with Mary. He sighed at the thought, but once again banished the idea from his mind. No, he would have none of that.

"I'm ready for anything, as long as I have you by my side," She gave him a watery smile, and he held her against him, because he truly felt the feeling he had those two years ago when he asked her to marry him. It had been something that he had felt slipping away from the previous months but with Mary out of his mind, he felt perfectly and completely content with Lavinia.

_Content_, he thought to himself, _You are just merely content. _

And once again his thoughts were flooded with those of Mary, of her elegant laugh, of the way she smiled at him whenever their eyes met. He thought of the way she made him feel and how it was a truly different sensation compared to that of Lavinia's. He gave his wife a sad smile, absolutely disgusted with himself to be thinking these thoughts on his wedding night, and to revive himself, he gave her a small kiss, not bothering to have it linger. There would be much lingering later on.

They crossed the threshold together, hand in hand as they were greeted by Molsley who had left the wedding earlier to see that everything was in order.

"Good evening," He said, giving them both a genuine smile as he helped remove both of their coats. "I've had Ellen make up the bedrooms early so she shall be out of your way for the rest of the night." He had a slight twinkle in his eyes that signaled to Matthew his mother had something to do with Ellen's "early bedroom preparation".

"Thank you Molsley, would you mind leaving us for a moment," Matthew asked the butler. Molsley gave a quick swift nod, and departed the room.

Matthew stared down at Lavinia who seemed to be preoccupied with the window, though a smile had crept upon her face. "What a lovely night. I do rather admire the stars in the countryside. You don't see them much in the city…" She trailed off as she gazed up at Matthew who had placed a hand on her cheek, the other stroking one of her curls. Lavinia parted her lips, and spoke with a crack in her voice. "You know, I think it's a bit late. Shall we go to bed dearest?" There was a slight smirk on her face, and Matthew raised his eyebrows, his mouth parted. "Of course darling. Perhaps I should…retire the servants for the night? They've done quite enough as it is?"

"Yes, I think it would be for the best." She gave him a swift smile and departed up the stairs, leaving Matthew to gape after her.

After sending the servants to bed, Matthew proceeded to climb the creaky stairs up to the second floor, his heart pounding in his chest as he entered his dressing room. What would she expect him to wear? He supposed he would appear rather silly if he entered her room still dressed in his formal attire. Perhaps his night robe would suffice? After a mental debate in his head, Matthew decided on his night linens and a robe and stared at himself in the mirror, his mouth agape. Tonight he and Lavinia would be properly married. He had thought this moment would never come, but here it was, and yet he couldn't help but feel a sense that something was missing. That something wasn't right. It wasn't as though he didn't love Lavinia, he did very much so. He had just never thought of such an intimate encounter with her. It was almost as if he didn't want to spoil her complete reputation of being a saint like pure human being. But he knew that she wanted it, and a small voice in his head told him that he wanted it to.

And so after mentally prepping himself in front of Lavinia's door, he opened it, and proceeded to enter. She was standing in the middle of the room in a silk nightgown, and by the glint of candlelight, Matthew could just make out her figure within it. Her golden coloured hair draped down her shoulders, and her lips were slightly parted as she stared at Matthew with a hungry expression on her face.

"You look beautiful," Were the only words he could come up with. No, she looked like an angle, glowing in all her grace. But beautiful was the only word he was able to form from his contemplating lips.

Lavinia strode towards him slowly, her eyes not leaving his as she finally was within two inches of his face, and slowly kissed him. It was not long, and it was not deep, but it didn't have to be. The sweet and gentle kisses were the ones he remembered the most about Lavinia, how she never did anything fast, and full of lust. It was all out of love, and Matthew felt absolutely ashamed as his thoughts once again turned to Marry, and how her kiss was the complete opposite of Lavinia's: Wanting, and full of emotion and passion. Matthew sighed and pulled Lavinia in for a deeper kiss, breaking his thoughts of Mary as he willed all of his mind to focus on Lavinia. No words were spoken between the two of them as he hoisted her up, their lips not parting, and laid her gently on the bed. They didn't need words to communicate their love for eachother. As the continued to kiss, Matthew slowly began to slip off Lavinia's nightgown as she busied herself with removing his night clothes. His robe lay forgotten on their trail towards the bed. Soon all of their clothes were simply a thought of the past, and the two pressed themselves against each other with a sigh of relief, finally being able to express all of the emotion and frustration they had been feeling over the past two years.

To feel his bare body up against hers sent shivers down his spine as he felt truly connected with his wife. Lavinia's soft moans were only rivaled by his low ones, as he proceeded to touch every inch of bare skin he could, kissing her everywhere, and resurfacing gasping at the sheer passion between them.

When it was over, they lay next to eachother, under a sheet as the light of the moon scattered across them, their bodies writhing with aftershocks and stolen kisses, their arms wrapped around eachother as though the only thing that could ever possibly tear them apart was the end of the world, or perhaps the dawn of a new one.

And a new world was indeed starting, and they were quite confident that they would challenge it gracefully together. Yet once again, a deep feeling of dread and regret that was far more endearing than the activity that had just taken place fell over his body.

And that night he was put to sleep by thoughts of Mary.

* * *

><p>Mary sat at her dressing table fidgeting her fingers as Anna carefully braided her hair for the night. For what seemed like the hundredth time, Mary glanced at the large grandfather clock near the door and let out a long sigh. She felt positively distressed as each passing minute ticked on, knowing quite well why Cousin Isobel was spending the night at Downton, and it absolutely tore her apart to know what Matthew and Lavinia were doing right at that very moment. Or at least anticipating to do. She closed her eyes and once again let out a long and extremely fathomable sigh, as though pushing all the unwanted feelings out of her would make her feel better.<p>

"Milady, are you alright?" Anna said quietly, tying up the end of Mary's hair with a small ribbon.

Mary glanced up at the maid she had put so much trust in, had helped so much throughout the years and had received so much help in return. There was no point in lying, Anna could see right through her. And Mary wasn't exactly doing a great job at concealing her emotions.

"No Anna. I am not alright. But I must will myself to be alright, mustn't I," She said with a slight edge to her voice as she collapsed her hands into her lap.

"There is still chance Milady. There is always still hope," Anna said, looking at Mary with a look of pity.

This worsened Mary's mood even more. She was not one who liked to bask in the pity of others, to be felt sorry for. She bit her tongue to keep herself from snapping and said coldly with a small flinch, "Goodnight Anna,"

The maid took her cue and gave Mary a swift curtsy and departed the room. Mary gazed at herself in the mirror, her eyes piercing and her nostrils flared. But her expression softened as she realized how cruel she had been to Anna, Anna who was only trying to help, and a small tear drifted down her cheek. But her mama did say that things always looked better in the morning. There was always the promise of Sir Richard Carlisle, and Haxby Park, and all the luxuries of the world that she could ever dream of. Her filthy scandal would never reach the ears to a soul; she would live a life of pure riches. Yes she would be satisfied with Sir Richard. Just not whole.

But then again, when had she ever deserved to be?


	3. Vast Cravings and Stolen Glances

**AN: Hello everyone, and welcome to chapter three. Surprise surprise, you guys are going to get it a little early, simply because I'm in a giving mood. I've decided to switch things up a bit and start this chapter off in Lavinia's POV. It'd be a nice breath of fresh air compared to our two previous angst ridden main characters. Thank you all for your wonderful support and reviews! You guys are clearly the backbone to this story. So without further ado, I give you chapter three.**

**Disclaimer: Do I look like I could come up with Downton Abbey? That's what I thought. Therefore I am not Julian Fellowes, and I do not own the characters I dream feverishly about every night.**

_Chapter III_

_Vast Cravings and Stolen Glances_

Lavinia was aware that she was awake before she even opened her eyes, yet was quite certain the whole previous night had been nothing but a reconciling dream. How could everything she had ever hoped for, everything that made her absolutely happy, possibly come true in one meager night?

But the unmistakable feel of Matthew's arm around her, and the tickle of his soft breath on her neck forced her to believe the entire thing was simply not an elaborate fantasy, and she was curled in the arms of her lover. A small smile graced her face as she opened her eyes and gazed around the room in awe. This was her room, no not hers; _Their _room. She was Mrs. Matthew Crawley. The mere thought of it made her head spin with glee and satisfaction that she had finally pushed the boundaries and married the one man she was head over heels in love with, the one man that was placed in heart gallantly above all the rest.

After countless times of being told to go home, to think of him as dead, to find another man, to be told they would never be properly married, she had looked past all those things. And the result had certainly paid off. Of course there was still a dark lingering memory in her head, the vague thought of when her head was dizzy with illness, how she had stood at the banister of the stairs, and watched Matthew and Mary dance, and felt hurt when she heard what he said, and her heart turned completely distraught when their lips met. She had eventually not been able to stand it, and announced her presence with such aptitude that she could have exploded at him. But she could never be furious with Matthew, not when she was the one getting in the way.

The guilt had plagued her over the course of the next few days until she recovered and it was finally time for her wedding. Matthew and Mary seemed to be avoiding each other, and she was quite confident that once again, everything in her garden was rosy. And the night that she had just shared with her husband seemed to confirm her thoughts.

Rolling over, her heart nearly leapt out of her throat when she caught sight of him. In the light of day, she could truly admire the way he slept; his lips slightly parted, and hair messed up in a daze lying softly over his forehead. His nose twitched in his sleep and Lavinia figured that he must be dreaming.

She was quite content to watch him sleep until he woke up, but the prospect of waking with her husband and grasping the day ahead of them seemed all too tempting, and she gently kissed his nose and whispered, "Matthew love, we should be getting up. The servants will start to wonder,"

His eyes fluttered open and he gave her a groggy smile, "Good morning my darling." He took her hand and gave it a small kiss to which she replied with such an ecstatic giggle that she worried it would ring around the entire house.

"How did you sleep Mrs. Crawley?" He asked her, sitting up and running a swift hand through his hair.

"Better than I have in years Mr. Crawley," She leaned up against him and the two sat together in bed, admiring the tranquil sound of birds and the rare sound of a motor going by.

* * *

><p>Mary's awakening was quite opposite from the tranquil happenings going on in Crawley house. Her eyes did flutter open; however it wasn't in an awakening on her own behalf. She awoke in sheer terror from the nightmare that had just plagued her sleep. Sweat was rolling from every pore in her body and her sheets were bundled up at the edge of her bed, as though someone had thrown them. Despite her terror however, she could not for the life of her remember what her twisted fantasy was about.<p>

Sighing Mary sat in her bed for what seemed like ages, yet happened to be only a few minutes, contemplating whether she should tell everyone she had taken ill and simply stay in bed for the rest of the day. The Crawleys were coming over for dinner that night, which meant she would have to survive another two hours of pure agony as she watched Matthew and Lavinia carry on in their married life.

Eventually deciding against feigning sick, (she was quite certain her mama would have the entire nursing brigade over faster than she could say Jack Robinson), Mary leaned out of bed and pushed the buzzer to signal Anna to bring her a breakfast trey.

She didn't feel like eating breakfast with everyone in the dining room who would still be fanning about the wedding and she wanted to apologize to Anna for behaving so coldly.

Within a matter of minutes, Anna pushed through the door, a large trey in her hands packed with kippers, bacon and all. "Good morning your Ladyship," Anna said with a smile. "Where shall I place the trey?"

"On the bed thank you," Was all Mary could muster. She hadn't eaten since the morning before, not wanting to have a taste of Matthew and Lavinia's wedding cake, and was absolutely famished. "Anna," She called to the maid, who was busying herself with tidying the gowns in the wardrobe. "I do wish to apologize for yesterday. I shouldn't have scolded; you were only trying to comfort me,"

Anna turned from the wardrobe with the same sad smile and look of pity she had worn yesterday. "No apologies are needed Milady. I understand what it's like to watch another woman take the man you love. But I do stick with what I said, you mustn't give up."

Mary simply gave Anna a swift nod and continued with her breakfast, brushing off Anna's last statement. What could she possibly do to take Matthew from Lavinia? Lavinia deserved to be happy and Mary didn't, it was as simple as that.

But God knew she wanted to. She wanted Matthew with every fiber in her being. Yet she had convinced herself thoroughly that he was not hers, and never would be.

* * *

><p>The night was young when Matthew and Lavinia stepped into the familiar foyer of Downton Abbey, the smell of a tremendous feast drifting up from the kitchens below.<p>

"Good evening Sir, Milday." Carson greeted the pair with a crooked smile, helping them out of their jackets and leading them to the drawing room where everyone was qued, small chatter drifting amongst its occupants. "Mr. and Mrs. Crawley," Carson announced, giving a swift bow of the head and allowing the two to pass. Maybe Matthew had imagined it, but he thought he saw Carson give Lavinia an unfriendly frown, but it was gone within an instance and Matthew became certain it was nothing.

"Ah, the couple of the hour," Lord Grantham approached them, a wide grin on his face. "We were just talking about how splendid the servants decorated the church yesterday. They deserve congratulations,"

"Yes, it was all rather grand," Matthew nodded in agreement as he watched Lavinia retreat to the side of the room where the ladies gathered on the sofas, talking and laughing amongst themselves. And then his eyes traveled to Mary who seemed to be set apart from the group, her face in a cold expression as she watched Matthew, but quickly turned away and occupied herself with approaching Sir Richard for conversation. All thoughts of small talk with Lord Grantham were lost, as Matthew once again succumbed to a great sense of regret and sorrow. It was his fault that she was so unhappy, and he truly loathed himself for it.

"Matthew are you quite alright?" Cousin Robert asked, studying him closely.

"Yes I'm fine," Matthew replied, drawing his eyes away from Mary. "Just had a bit of a turn," Though Lord Grantham did not press the matter, his eyes traveled to Mary and back to Matthew, giving him a swift nod. "Why don't we go on through to dinner? Perhaps a little food in your stomach is just what you need,"

"Of course," Was his only reply, as Lord Grantham signaled for everyone to continue to the dining room. As his mother passed she gave him a swift kiss on the cheek and proceeded to follow Cousin Cora, though a sad smile was plastered on her face.

* * *

><p>Mary thought she would burst if anyone breathed one more word about the stupid wedding. Her mama and cousin Isobel couldn't seem to stop droning on and on about the flowers and the dress and the cake. It was almost as though everyone knew of her remaining love for Matthew and simply wanted to torture her until she finally caved in, which was definitely something she had no intention of doing.<p>

She stirred her fork in her freshly bake peach pie distractedly as she felt her Grandmother's eyes land upon her, but being the empathetic Granny that she was, Violet did not draw attention the fact that Mary was practically writhing in her despair, and the desert continued on.

Sir Richard also seemed to take notice of Mary's inner turmoil, and he flared his nostrils at her, knowing what was racing through her head. Why she had been stealing quick glances at Matthew all through dinner. Mary knew that Sir Richard would be furious with her, and would most likely confront her about it, but for once in her life, she didn't give a damn about what other people would think. She had been bottling up her agony for far too long, why shouldn't he know about how she truly felt?

But a small voice in her head reminded her that he held the key to her future, to every single materialistic item she ever yearned for, yet he also held the key to her social downfall and scorn from the world, so instead of wearing her emotions on her sleeve she sat up immediately and engaged in the conversation flowing around the table about how everyone these days seemed to own an automobile, and she didn't even flinch when Lavinia mentioned to Matthew that an automobile would be useful for when they had children. At least not on the outside.

After the dinner, everyone seemed to congregate in the grand hall, small awkward chattering seeming to be the only means of communication for the night. Deciding that she'd better smooth things over with Sir Richard, Mary pulled him aside and gave him a smile. It was not genuine, and it was not full of love, but Mary was so good at faking emotion that it almost appeared to be so.

"I was thinking about dates for the wedding, and I was wondering about June?" She said in her most innocent and tender voice.

Sir Richard seemed somewhat taken aback, but like Mary, covered up his emotional turmoil and gave her the same, fake and unemotional smile. "That sounds lovely. A summer wedding it is then?"

Mary nodded and gave him a cold kiss on the cheek. "Yes a summer wedding. It will come as quite a shock to everyone, to have it so soon, but I think we've waited long enough, don't you?" She cast a nervous glance at Matthew who was politely engaging in conversation with her mother, but Mary quickly averted her eyes back to Richard.

However Richard had caught her small yet provocative glance and he licked his lips as he stared down at her. "Yes, our wedding can't come sooner," And he gave her a small peck on the lips, that Mary supposed was to be taken as loving, however it reminded her more and more of a snake, striking it's victim and implanting venom.

**AN: If you're not too busy, I would really appreciate if you took the time to leave a little review and give me your opinion/critique/advice/or simply just a little wave hello. :) My writing revolves around being critiqued and you guys have no idea the impact you have on my writing. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Confrontations

**AN: Welcome back everyone! Hope your Saturday is getting off to a good start! I've spent the morning watching Downton Abbey, so naturally my day's been ever so amazing. I am very pleased to bring you chapter four of what I hope will be many more chapters. The waters start stirring in this chapter so let's sit back with some chips and salsa and enjoy the show.**

**Thanks for the lovely reviews and support! **

_Chapter IV_

_Confrontations_

Matthew Crawley made quick work of his walk up to the big house that day. Lavinia had suggested having Gibbs take him in the carriage but he needed the air to clear his ever revolving head of the past few days. Within the last seventy-two hours he had experienced such bliss every time he was alone with Lavinia that he wondered why his thoughts had ever turned to Mary on his first night as a married man. Of course as soon as he left the presence of his wife, all thoughts returned to his distant cousin along with a deep sense of regret, but the sensation was merely forgotten as he felt Lavinia's presence with him.

She was like his shield, and he used her to guard off any unwanted feelings that had almost infrequently vacated his head.

Cousin Robert had called him up to Downton to discuss renovations that would be taking place later that summer in the East Wing and wanted Matthew's opinion. Matthew had accepted without hesitation. He had lately been snatching up any form of invite up to the big house merely to catch Mary alone. They hadn't talked for a week, and he felt absolutely ashamed at himself for avoiding her so feverishly.

He had left Crawley House early in the morning so as to make sure he could catch her before she went on an outing, but regretted it dearly. Lavinia had looked so put out at his leavingand he didn't like to see her unhappy. He felt even more guilty knowing that he was putting Downton and Mary before his own wife, but it simply all had to be settled if his brain wanted some peace and quiet for the next week. Pushing through the front doors quietly, Matthew caught sight of Carson, his back turned to him and rushing down the hall towards the dining room.

"Carson," He half whispered, half called to the retreating butler. Carson turned and caught sight of Matthew, hurrying back to let him into the foyer.

"Good morning sir. Is his Lordship expecting you?" He asked, slightly taken aback.

"Yes he is actually, though if he's asleep I can come back later," Matthew truly didn't think it was _that _early, but Lavinia was an early riser and he taken keen to waking when she did now.

"Of course not sir, he's just finishing up his breakfast. If you can wait in the library I can fetch him for you," Carson gave the young heir a swift nod.

"Thank you Carson," Matthew replied, taking off his hat as he watched the butler retreat back to the dining hall.

Matthew was always quite impressed by the mere grandeur of Lord Grantham's library. It held such a collection of books that it would take more than six hours to sort through the northern part of the library, and still another six to sort through the others. Yet there was no feeling of vast knowledge or expectancy. It was merely a cozy room, littered with carpets bigger than most people's houses, and a large fireplace sat at the far wall, chairs and sofas gathered around it.

It was here that Matthew sat, feeling truly at home as he admired the woodwork of the ceiling. He was so busy trying to figure out what sort of wood based the walls that he didn't notice someone come in from the east entrance, and it was not Lord Grantham.

"Hello," Mary's cool voice echoed around the library, leaving Matthew to jump. Mary smiled at this. "I'm sorry; I don't mean to startle you,"

"That's quite alright. I should have been on my guard," Matthew gave her a small smile, rising to his feet as per custom.

There was a long silence between the two of them, both remembering the last time they had been alone together, how they had danced, what he had said, and the feel of each other's lips. It wasn't awkward, more empathetic, as though the other were trying to get a feel of the situation. It was Mary who finally broke the ice.

"So how is married life treating you?" She asked, resting her hands in front of her.

"Very well, thank you," Matthew replied, gazing at her diligently. It was hard to decipher Mary. She could seem like a sheet of ice on the outside, her expression completely neutral and her tone the same; however he knew her too well to know that within it would most likely be the complete opposite. "How about your engagement? Is Sir Richard Carlisle proving satisfactory?" He said the last part with a bit of an edge, yet felt no regret for it. Sir Richard was definitely a shady character, and he all over did not sit well with Matthew.

Mary parted her lips as Matthew finished his sentence. "Yes I think he has proven himself worthy." She gave him a small smile, though whether he had imagined the pain and regret in her eyes, he was not sure. "We've set a date…for June."

"Ah," Matthew said, giving a quick nod, feeling foolish for his previous comment. Of course Sir Richard had proven satisfactory. Moreover than him; she had actually accepted Sir Richard Carlisle. She had chosen him over Matthew, and for the sake of Mary, he tried to remain happy for her, however much the man made him cringe. "So the wedding will be very soon," Was all he finished with.

"Yes it will be. Have you seen Papa? Carson told me he would be in here?" Mary said distractedly, giving Matthew a smile.

"I was informed he was just finishing up his breakfast." Matthew thought it very odd that Carson would tell Matthew one thing and Mary another; however his thought was quickly gone with Mary's swift goodbye and departure from the room.

* * *

><p>Mary collapsed in a nervous state onto her bed. There were no tears, only a small dry sob followed by silence. If he had known how hard it had been for her to stand in the library and simply breathe little words and make small talk with him for merely a few minutes, he would have thought her mad. But she had made the excuse that Carson had told her the library was where her papa was residing, and Matthew had bought it. Or seemed to at least.<p>

Her turmoil was interrupted by a steady knock on the door, and Mary quickly leapt to her feet, fixing her hair and smoothing her dress, making sure her neutral emotionless face was in place. "Come in," She called.

Her mother entered the room quietly, closing the door behind her with a small smile on her face. "Good morning darling," She greeted Mary.

"Good morning Mama," Mary replied, turning to her vanity and taking a seat in front of it to put in her earrings. "You're up early today,"

Cora Crawley pursed her lips together as she watched her daughter steadily insert the earrings, and then hold up a broach to her dress to see if it matched.

"Sybil's leaving this afternoon," Lady Grantham said softly, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. "They're taking a boat to Dublin tonight,"

"Hmm," Was Mary's only response as she stood up, smoothing out her dress once again.

Her mama let out a long and prominent sigh, her eyes closed. Mary watched her mother's reflection from the mirror, quite confident she was about to get another scolding. "What is it?" She asked impatiently.

"Darling, I hate to see you like this," Lady Grantham said, with no trace of concealed emotion. "Matthew wouldn't want you to be so distraught-"

"Who says I'm distraught?" Mary snapped, cutting across her mother, turning her head sharply. Mary had thought she was doing well at concealing all the inner emotions she had been feeling. If she were like every other girl, she would have been in a state of emotional collapse, however Mary was not like other girls, nor did she want to be.

"You are my daughter Mary. I think I know when you are unhappy," Her mother replied, rather impatiently. "And if you are unhappy," She continued, "I think you should do something about it,"

"That's rich coming from you," Mary replied, shoving on her gloves harder than she intended to. Her mother had after all been the one who had summoned Lavinia back in the first place. If she had let bygones be bygones, Mary would be living a perfectly happy life, most preferably with Matthew.

"I do not mean continue to pursue Matthew," Cora snapped, her frustration wielding out at her daughter. "Perhaps you could invite Richard to stay this weekend?" Her tone immediately lightened, as she smoothed her frock and once again shifted in her chair.

"Oh. I see," Mary said, turning to face her mother, a solemn expression on her face. "You think if I spend more time with Sir Richard, it will automatically abolish all thoughts of Matthew from the planet. Has it ever occurred to you that I have been trying to do so for the past two years?" Mary snapped, her voice cold and calculating. Seeing the hurt in her mother's eyes however, Mary let out a sigh. "We plan to set the wedding for June. June tenth I believe,"

Lady Grantham immediately lit up. "Oh how wonderful! I suppose we'll have to start preparing if it's going to be so soon…" Her voice trailed off as she saw Mary's expression.

"You don't mind that it's so close and so soon after Matthew's?" Mary had the slightest feeling that she knew her mother's true motivations.

"Well I believe you and Sir Richard have waited long enough," Her mother gave another small smile and lifted herself out of the chair. "Oh by the way, Granny has invited you and Lavinia for tea tomorrow. I expect you to go, she seemed quite keen,"

Mary was taken aback. Why would Granny of all people want tea with Mary and the one woman that had caused her so much grief? But of course the dowager countess was most likely up to something, as per usual, and Mary had to admit she was rather curious as to what it would be.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go mail some letters," The Countess of Grantham left her daughter in a state of paranoia, quite certain that telling her mother how soon the wedding was the biggest mistake of her life.

**AN: Apologies for the shortness of this chapter, but I hope the next chapter will make up for it. We will start really getting into the plot within the next two chapters, so don't let your guard down as I lead you into a false sense of security! Please review if you have the time! :)**


	5. That Sweet Far Thing

**AN: Well helloooooo everyone. Hope your morning/afternoon/evening is going good. I've decided to post this chapter a little early seeing as I have a packed day tomorrow. I wish I could say that the angst is lifted in this chapter however it does get slightly light with the Dowager Countess having to do with most of it, so there's no need to have an emotional overflow. Yet. There is also quite a bit of Lavinia POV in this chapter which I think I'll be throwing at you quite a lot in the future. Thanks heaps for all your lovely story alerts/favorites/reviews! They truly make my day!**

_Chapter V_

_That Sweet Far Thing_

Lavinia Crawley sat at her vanity table, making sure that every loose piece of her golden coloured hair was in place, that not even a single inch of her demeanor was missing. She had to admit, she was rather frightened when The Dowager Countess had invited her for tea, wondering if she had done something wrong. Perhaps she had not sent off the aurora of grace that a future countess should, and the older woman was to tell her that Matthew could not inherit with such a wife. But Lavinia knew that of course, that would be stupid. Matthew would inherit Downton no matter how common his wife was.

A swift knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and Lavinia turned with a smile as her husband entered the room with a wide grin.

"You look beautiful," He breathed, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I'm off to Ripon. A client keeps insisting we discuss business in person and I don't think I can put him off any longer," He rested a hand on her waste. "I was hoping afterwards we might take a walk around the grounds up at the big house. Cousin Robert wanted me to check up on some of the cottages. We could make an outing of it," He said with a broad smile that made Lavinia's heart practically explode.

"That sounds wonderful! I've been summoned by your Cousin Violet for tea, but I should be back by luncheon," Lavinia said, rubbing his arm tenderly.

Matthew's soft look turned to one of confusion. "Cousin Violet? Why?"

"I suppose she just wants to get to know me better, that's all," Lavinia said, giving him a reassuring smile, though she wasn't quite so sure herself. "Well I'd better get going, I'm walking over there and I don't want to be late," And Lavinia grabbed her hat giving Matthew a swift peck, before departing the room.

* * *

><p>Mary's state of confusion was just as prominent as Lavinia's as she entered her Grandmother's drawing room, holding her pocketbook close to her side. The Dowager Countess sat in a large chair by the stone-ridden fireplace, her hair in a neat and tidy fashion and the dress she wore complimented her eyes as well as her name. "Mary darling," She said, rising to her feet and embracing Mary in a swift hug. "How are you my dear?"<p>

Mary stared at her Granny in a state of suspicion. Yes she was definitely up to something. Everything from her eyes to her stature screamed '_I have a plan to make your life wonderful and only divine intervention can stop me'_.

"Granny, what is this all about?" Mary finally caved in, as a steady yet pounding rain began to descend upon the skies of Yorkshire, a flash of lightning illuminating the room.

Violet Crawley glanced at her eldest grand-daughter with a look of such excitement Mary thought she resembled a young child on Christmas day. "I don't know what you mean dear. Is it illegal for an old woman to have tea with her grandchild?"

"And Lavinia?" Mary asked, her voice speculating as she hovered above the sofa her Granny had beckoned her to sit in.

"My dear, being close with the future head of this family is going to have some perks. Now sit down before Lavinia comes in and thinks we're up to something," Violet said in a demanding voice, beckoning once again for her granddaughter to be seated.

Mary was about to point out that Granny was the one conspiring, when the door to the drawing room opened without notice and the Dowager's butler Hastings led a very red faced and out of breath Lavinia to the center of the room. Her hair was out of place and her dress was muddied and torn. She looked as though she had trekked through a tropical jungle.

"Mrs. Crawley your ladyship," Hastings announced.

The Dowager Countess looked absolutely mortified. "Yes I can see that," She said, her shocked expression escalating through her tone. "But what on earth happened to her!"

Lavinia's blush crept up her neck as she let out a sigh. "Well you see I decided to walk here and it started raining,"

Mary knew that she Lavinia needed no further to explain. Yorkshire rain was always the worst as it seemed to frequently unearth mud and dirt that had been vacating the roads. For once in her life, Mary felt rather sorry for the girl she had so bitterly despised yet could not hate and had the good grace to stand up and comfort her. "Oh you poor dear. We must surely let you take a bath, right Granny," Mary turned to her Grandmother who seemed slightly crestfallen, her glorious plan ruined by a single drop of rain.

"Of course, of course. Hastings can you have Gertrude prepare a bath for Mrs. Crawley," The Dowager Countess said distractedly, pursing her lips as she looked Lavinia over again. "We wouldn't want her taking sick, I'm afraid Matthew would be quite enraged at us," Violet cast a quick glance at Mary but it was gone in a flash as Lavinia was escorted out of the room by the butler.

The two were once against seated, Granny looking thoroughly put out.

"Well there goes whatever you were planning," Mary said casually, shuffling in her seat. "The poor girl has fallen victim to this drastic weather, not your scheme," For some reason Mary felt rather disappointed that she wouldn't be finding out the Dowager's plan.

"Oh my dear, I wouldn't say that."

* * *

><p>Matthew stood in the main hall of Downton Abbey, his face twisted into that of pure apprehension. Lavinia had promised him she would meet him there that afternoon and after thirty minutes of waiting, he began to worry. Of course there was no way they would be able to go on the anticipated walk now that the blasted weather had decided to reign hell upon Yorkshire, but he was hoping she'd at least come to the big house instead of making the journey back home.<p>

He had just made up his mind to go and see if she had gone back to Crawley House when he heard the front doors to the hall open and Matthew whipped his head around to see Mary making his way towards him.

"There you are. Lavinia said you would be here," Mary said, her hair wet from the rain however Matthew thought she truly looked like a goddess as she seemed to float towards him. But he quickly banished the thought from his head as he turned to face her.

"Where is she?" He asked, his tone friendly.

Mary gave him a small frown and said, "At the Dowager house. She got caught up in the rain and we simply had to let her have a bath. Granny has promised to send her home in the motor when she's ready."

"Oh dear. All alone in the presence of Cousin Violet. Should I fear for her safety?" Matthew asked, an amused look on his face.

Mary chuckled, and Matthew became instantly glad the atmosphere between them was once again warm. "Sanity more like it, after a long talk with Granny,"

The two smiled at eachother as they felt the last veil lifting. "So how are your wedding plans going? Lavinia tells me tomorrow all the ladies are going for your fitting?"

"Very well thank you. What about your client in Ripon? I hear that he's proving to be unsatisfactory," Mary's tone was neutral yet Matthew could still notice the quick change of subject, as though the object of her wedding was taboo.

"He's letting up. Still won't give enough details though," Matthew could feel the conversation becoming dry and he decided to excuse himself. "I should be getting home, mother will be wanting me for luncheon," It was a lie of course, lately Isobel Crawley had been spending most days at the hospital, leaving Matthew and Lavinia enough time alone as she could however Matthew didn't want to appear rude, even if it was what he was being. And especially not to Mary.

"Of course. Goodbye then," Mary took his hand and then dropped it, a blush creeping up her neck.

"Goodbye Mary," Matthew barely breathed out, the lingering touch of his cousin still fresh on his hand.

* * *

><p>Lavinia bit her lip as she sat in the Crawley house drawing room, waiting for Matthew to arrive. That is if Mary had even bothered to convey the message. Mary and Matthew could be sprawled up in some closet at Downton Abbey for all she knew, kissing until their hearts content now that she was out of the way, but immediately felt guilty for thinking such a thought. Of course they wouldn't be doing that, not with Matthew married and Mary's wedding day vastly approaching.<p>

She felt even more contrite as Matthew entered the room in such a flurry that it made her jump.

"My dear are you alright?" Matthew kneeled in front of her, caressing her cheek softly with the backside of his hand. "You're as cold as ice. I should've made you take the carriage," His voice was full of self regret and Lavinia wondered why he seemed so distraught, it wasn't as though she were on her death bed.

"I'm fine darling, a little water never hurt anyone," She smiled sweetly at him, leaning in and giving him a tender kiss to which he accepted with full force. She pulled apart quickly, her eyes bearing into his bright blue ones, "Your mother called. She says she won't be home until late tonight. Apparently there's a patient at the hospital with a nasty case of nasal congestion,"

"Well then," Matthew said, a small smile creeping up his lips as he pulled Lavinia in for another kiss. "She is quite the expert on nasal congestion,"

Lavinia smiled as their lips met once again, quite pleased with how she would be spending the rest of her afternoon.

**AN: Le gasp! How can this be? Fluff in an angst ridden story? But of course it's in Lavinia's POV and everything's fluffy with her. The next chapter probably won't be up until tomorrow night, so I hope this holds you over until then. Cheers my lovely readers! Please review if you have the time!**


	6. Remorse for the Living

_Chapter VI_

_Remorse for the Living_

Mary gazed out upon the aisle before her with such a somber look and expression that anyone with eyes could see she might as well have been walking to her death. She clung diligently to her father's arm as though letting go would whisk away every happy thought, every glimpse of a childhood she was about to leave behind, every parceling whisper that had swam in her innocent head, and every tender kiss shared with someone other than Sir Richard. She closed her eyes, remembering each and every one of them knowing that it would be the last time before she could do so without shame.

There had been the Duke of course, but his kiss had been so swift and unemotional in the conservatory at Northrooks that Mary hadn't even regarded it as one. Then of course there had been Pamook, his lips and ever searching hands full of lust and need with his tongue practically half way down her throat. Then of course there was Matthew's kiss, and her thoughts soared at the mere memory. His kiss was full of love and passion, never wanting more than was needed, yet not forgetting to be tender and intimate.

Her future husband's kiss however, was the complete opposite, proving to be moreover cold and harsh on her lips, as though she where his property and his alone and could do whatever he pleased with her. It was this kiss that she received when she climbed the stairs to the altar, awaiting to exchange her vows with nothing short of a snake.

The wedding had approached far faster than she had anticipated it to, and she was almost grief stricken as Anna had helped her into her wedding gown that morning. It seemed like just yesterday she was parading around, a small girl in a party dress quite certain that she would marry happily to a handsome rich prince and have ten children before dying in the arms of her husband at a tender old age. She almost laughed bitterly in self disgust at the mere thought. Look at where she was now.

The wedding was not beautiful. It was not even cheerful looking. It resembled much more a gloomy funeral than a festivity of unification amongst a couple. She gazed around at everyone who had attended, trying to look their happiest however their smiles began to look more and more like grimaces. Rain pounded on the stain glass windows until it was nearly impossible to hear what the minister was saying, and everyone in the last four rows simply had given up and sat chattering amongst themselves, paying no attention to the service no matter how viciously Mary glared at them. It was the same church that Matthew had wed in, making Mary even more resentful to her mother's so called "wedding planning". Mary would have much more preferred a far smaller and intimate affair, however Cora Crawley had made a great deal about having a wedding such as fine as the future heir of Downton's was.

Mary cast a weary glance at Matthew out of the corner of her eye as the minister drowned on and on about unity and love and everlasting bonds, none of which Mary cared for at the moment. He sat with Lavinia near the front row, their hands clasped together as they tried to look like they were paying attention though doing a poor job at it. Every now and then Lavinia would turn to him and beam with such a smile that Mary turned away sharply, her body rigid with jealousy, focusing once again on the ramblings of the minister. Sir Richard caught her eye and gave her a wry smile, baring his teeth like a saber toothed tiger to which Mary responded with a sneer. If he wanted her to play along, she would. They were after all about to be pronounced husband and wife, no matter how their bitterness seemed to grow with every impending vow.

* * *

><p>Mary sat diligently at her new vanity in Haxby gazing at her hollow looking expression in the mirror. She had thought she would feel something once she was wed, if only regret, but no emotions graced her that night. It was merely an empty feeling and a sense of finality. Her marriage was finally done and over, and there would be no going back.<p>

A swift movement out of the corner of her eye signaled to her that Richard had entered the room without knocking, and upon looking at his reflection in the mirror she found him gazing back at her, a look of determination on his face as he leaned against the door frame.

Mary sighed, pointedly ignoring him yet trying not to appear to be doing so outwardly. She didn't want to come off as rude to the man she would be spending the rest of her ever wielding life with.

"So," Richard said, his voice cold yet full of amusement, "We are married,"

"Yes," Mary replied distractedly, annoyed at her husband for merely stating the obvious. "I suppose we are," Her brisk tone did not go unnoticed by Sir Richard however, and he gave her a disapproving frown as he began to cross the bedroom.

Mary suddenly had a tremendous wave of grievous, as she felt his eyes traveling places she would much prefer to be unspeculated. "If you'll excuse me Richard, I'm not feeling all too well and I think I'll just go to bed," She made the quick fib as she rose to her feet, only to be stopped by a firm hand on her arm.

"You and I both know that that is a lie," Richard glared at her with an expression so harsh that Mary cringed under his gaze. His eyes softened and had the good enough grace to speak softly and tenderly as he continued, "Won't you fulfill your duties as a loving wife?"

Mary gave a sharp intake of breath as she stared at her husband, worried of what he might do if she refused him. Finally deciding not to risk crossing over to her husband's bad side she caved in and let him give her a slight kiss on her neck. "Very well," She trailed off, gasping at the sheer force of his lips. No, she was definitely not going to enjoy this.

* * *

><p>Lavinia let out a gasp of pain as a wave of heat and a flip of her stomach crashed over her as she curled up into a ball under the soft sheets of her bed. She had not remembered having a stomach ache so prominent and severe as this before, not even with the Spanish flu though it had come quite close. She had just decided to wait out the pain when suddenly, a lump rising at the bottom of her throat told her that she couldn't possibly do such a thing and she leapt out of bed, hoping to make it to the bathroom in time. The sound of her wretching must have awoken Matthew for he was soon at the door to the bathroom, a worried expression on his face.<p>

"Darling is everything all right?" He asked groggily, as he blinked in the startling light, kneeling down and rubbing her back, offering a cloth from the sink to clean her mouth. "Are you not feeling well? Should I get mother?"

Lavinia took the rag and wiped her mouth gingerly, feeling quite nauseated as she blinked up at Matthew. "No, I'm perfectly all right. It must have been something I ate at the reception," She gave him a reassuring smile and stood up, trying to ignore the spinning feeling that graced her body. "If I could just go lie down…" She trailed off.

"Of course," He said tenderly, helping her across the bedroom, turning off the light as he went. "But you must promise me you will go see Doctor Clarkson tomorrow. And take the carriage this time, I don't want you getting caught again in this groggy weather,"

"I promise," Was her only response as she crawled back into bed, slipping under his arm and falling asleep within minutes.

* * *

><p>Isobel Crawley sat in the drawing room, a teacup in her hand as she gazed out the window into the afternoon summer weather, dwelling on the way life had been progressing for the past two months. Work at the hospital had been quite prosperous, and she felt as though everyday she visited, she helped a patient in some way. Of course some would say that she was simply butting her head where it was not needed, nor wanted for that matter, but none of that really mattered to her. She was there to help the patients, not to rein her doctrine over the universe. Not only were her medical pursuits going well but she was pleased that her only child had married and was now living an independent life, succeeding in all the things that Doctor Clarkson had previously told him he could not do, almost as though the explosion had never happened. Of course there were still a few remaining scars and a large bruise on his back but they were merely physical gashes that Isobel thought made her son appear all the more brave.<p>

A sharp crack of the front door alerted her back to reality and she gave a swift smile as her daughter-in-law made her way over the threshold, looking extremely distracted as she removed her soft olive coloured hat and placed it on a shelf. "Lavinia dear, won't you come have some tea?" Isobel called gingerly, raising a teacup to her son's wife with a swift movement.

"Of course," Lavinia's voice cracked as she entered the drawing room, her cheeks flushed red as she sat across from Isobel, her eyes twinkling as she accepted the cup from Mrs. Crawley.

"Where have you been dear?" Isobel asked, taking a long sip out of her own cup.

"Up at the hospital," Lavinia replied with a vast sigh, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as she too brought her cup to her lips.

"Whatever for?" Isobel asked, her eyebrows knitting together as her nosy demeanor immediately snapped into place.

Lavinia's lips curled into a small smile as she shuffled her feet, placing her cup down on the side table next to her. "I wasn't feeling well yesterday, so Matthew told me to go to the hospital,"

"Naturally," Isobel said, raising her eyebrows urging her daughter-in-law to go on. "And what did Doctor Clarkson say?" Isobel hoped dearly it wasn't a reoccurring case of Spanish flu. There had been a few younger men and women at the hospital the previous month who had survived the first round but just as they were recovering, the wretched disease took them by surprise and snuffed out their lives like a light.

"Well," Lavinia said, a wide grinning passing over her face, clearly eager to the share the news, "He's told me that I am to expect a baby within seven months,"

Isobel's eyes widened as her face contorted into an excited gasp. "Oh my darling! That's wonderful, wonderful news!" She leaned forward and kissed Lavinia on both cheeks, felling a flush of pure joy, more so than she had for quite some time. Her son, the son that she had raised from infancy as a single mother, the son she had watched grow and become a lawyer, and then eventually an heir to a great estate, was going to be a father. And she was going to be a grandmother. The feeling was so overwhelming she could barely comprehend as she smiled so wide that she thought her face would split in two.

"Does Matthew know yet?"

Lavinia looked at her feet and shook her head. "No not yet. I was hoping to tell him this afternoon, he said he'd be home for luncheon,"

Isobel nodded at Lavinia, giving her a sincere smile. "He's just gone up to Downton, but he should be back soon. I'll tell Mrs. Bird that we'll be expecting him for luncheon," She rose to her feet, giving her daughter-in-law one more ecstatic hug, making the notion to leave the room when she suddenly turned and looked Lavinia in the face. "Now I know Matthew and I'm sure he's going to want you to stay confined in this house for the next seven months," She said giving him a wry smile, "But my dear, pregnancy does not make you handi-capped. Make sure he knows this," And she gave a swift nod before departing the room, her large smile still etched across her face.

* * *

><p>The large grandfather clock in the foyer let out eleven chimes as Matthew cautiously entered Downton, removing his hat carelessly and placing it swiftly on a side table, as he had done so many times before. The hall was empty as per usual, but it wasn't the vacancy that gave Matthew such a baron feeling. It was because he knew that Mary Crawley no longer resided in the halls of the house, living instead with Sir Richard at Haxby Park. And of course, she was Mary Carlisle now, and the thought made him even more remorseful as he gazed around the hall, imagining all the places they had talked, laughed, exchanged awkward goodbyes and interrupted kisses. He wondered how on earth he would ever live here in future when every hall, every tapestry right down to the floorboards reminded him of Mary.<p>

And then it was as though the mere thought of her had summoned her to his presence and he heard a swift hello as he turned and saw Mary coming down the hall in the other direction. She seemed to float in all her grace as they met half-way, Matthew feeling greatly embarrassed that she had caught him gaping around the hall like a fool.

"What are you doing here?" Her tone was not cold, more speculating as she looked him over.

"Well your father asked me a few weeks ago to inspect the cottages but it was raining, so I've postponed my trip until now," Matthew answered awkwardly. It still didn't explain why he was in the front hall.

"Ah," Mary said, her face curious as she gazed into his face once again. "You've just missed Papa. He's gone down to the village for some business with the legal office but he'll be back in an hour. Perhaps you could stay for luncheon?" There was a welcoming tone in her voice, one that Matthew had never heard from her before.

"I'm afraid not, I've promised Lavinia I'd be home by half past eleven," Matthew answered, almost feeling disappointed that he had made such an agreement with his wife but then felt extraordinarily guilty for it. He should prefer the company of his wife's to Mary's, however much his gut told him he didn't. "I assume that's why you're here?"

"Presiscly," She said with a quick bob of her head. "How are you?" Her tone was genuine, and Matthew almost believed that she had forgiven him for doing such awful things to her, for toying with her and then marrying another, for leading her on and then straight off a cliff. There was a slight look in her eyes however that suggested otherwise.

"I'm well. What about you?" Matthew knew that something was eating up Mary inside, whether it was him or Sir Richard; he was determined to find out.

He could tell that Mary sensed the drive in his voice, for she let out a stiff sigh and stared up at him, blinking fast as she took his hand. He nearly gasped at her touch but did nothing to prevent it. It had been far too long since he had felt his skin against hers and the feel of it ignited his whole body as though he were on fire.

"I hate talking like this you know," She leaned in closely, her breath on his cheek.

"Like what…" He barely stammered out, his heart racing a mile per minute, trying to ignore the voice in the back of his head screaming at how wrong it was.

"Polite chit-chat, rushed conversations, nothing like the old days," She carried on, pronouncing every syllable, sending a chill through his spine as she moved her head closer, staring at his lips.

"Mary don't…" He breathed out, but it was too late. Her lips crashed into his and he did anything but resist it. It was what every inch of his body had been yearning for, everything that he had been bottling up and avoiding suddenly came out in an awkward rush of lips on lips and skin on skin. It was passionate and full of love, everything Matthew remembered about all their kisses before, and it practically exploded in an incision of pure romance. But then he remembered Lavinia, all alone at home waiting for him for luncheon, completely unaware of what he was doing, what he was putting at stake. For God's sake, they were both married, both bound with another person, and no matter how hard they would ever try to be together, their unification would always undo them.

Without hesitation he pushed away from her, a dark look passing over his face as she stared up at him in confusion, their tangled gasps mingling together in a seemingly orchestra of pure yet hurried breathing. "Don't," He repeated, more coldly than he had intended as she sadly raised up a hand to stroke his cheek, but withheld at the tone of his voice. "Just don't Mary," He turned on a whim, all thoughts of cottages and Lord Grantham out of his mind as he quickly departed the hall, leaving Mary in a whirlwind of guilt.

**AN: Thank you all for your lovely support and reviews, especially to namelesspanda who has been my cyber buddy this weekend. Hope you all have a lovely Sunday, and please tell me what you think if you have the time! Next chapter should be up tomorrow.**


	7. Turning the Tides

_Chapter VII_

_Turning the Tides_

"I'm pregnant," The words vibrated around their small bedroom, bouncing off the closed shutters and their four poster bed, finally hitting its original target and crashing over Matthew in a wave of mixed emotions.

"What?" His mouth was agape, his eyes in utter and excruciating shock as he bore his glance into Lavinia's, looking for some trace of folly or lie but finding none. There was nothing but her look of anticipating excitement as she waited for his true response to unearth itself, but Matthew could not will himself to feel anything but absolute desolate surprise, his expression positively jarring.

"We're going to have a baby Matthew!" Lavinia continued, her mouth forming into an expectant smile as she rested her hands on her stomach. Once again, his expression stayed the same as he glanced from his wife's face, to her stomach, and then towards the bathroom, wondering if he was going to be sick.

"So soon?" Was his only response to this as he stood in front of Lavinia, simply not knowing what to do with himself. He had wanted to wait at least a year before they had children, and having one so soon after marriage was sure to cause mutterings amongst the neighbors.

Lavinia's face fell as she looked at her stomach and then back towards her husband. "You're not pleased," It was not a question, merely a statement as she sat down on the bed, gazing down at the ground.

Matthew immediately felt regret at his initial response and he took her hands and kissed both of them. "Of course I am! This is wonderful darling!" He placed his hand on her stomach as Lavinia's expression immediately lit up. "We're going to have a baby," He said brightly, repeating her words with such glee he almost convinced himself that he was happy.

* * *

><p>Matthew leant over the bathroom sink and splashed water on his otherwise emotionless face, though a storm of turmoil was racing inside him. He felt sickened by himself, no not sickened. That was too kind a word for him. He felt absolutely disgusted. Lavinia, his <em>pregnant<em> wife had been sitting at home innocently, thinking that Matthew was simply taking care of business up at the big house. Oh if only she knew, how she would despise him so. And what grieved Matthew even more was the mere fact that he had enjoyed the kiss, he had indulged in it as he had pulled Mary closer to him. Of course he had eventually recoiled away from her, but even as he stormed away, the feel of her lips on his still lingered leaving him yearning for more.

And they were married after all, to two different people, and no matter how much they longed to feel the sensation again, Matthew wouldn't allow it. They were invited to dinner that night up to Downton, and Matthew had nearly let out a groan when the invitation arrived. But as he stood there, alone in the bathroom, he made a promise in front of the mirror, gazing at his face in bitter self disgust that there would be no more touches, no more caresses, and certainly no more kisses with Mary. The closest thing to being friendly he decided that they would ever do was politely speak to each other. At that would be the end of it.

* * *

><p>Mary turned from them as they entered the drawing room, smiling and holding hands as Isobel bobbed diligently behind them. She couldn't stand the look of Matthew, couldn't stand the look in his eyes as he barely even acknowledged her existence, sweeping past her to talk with her Papa. She had thought the kiss would have made things better. She thought that one burst of affection towards him would settle everything between them and they could finally be at peace, be at rest. How wrong she had been, for now he seemed to loathe her even more and it absolutely wrecked her.<p>

It had been Mama's idea to have everyone over for dinner. There hadn't been a get together of Crawley's since her wedding, and she supposed her mother had done it out of mere tradition, a sign of the old days sweeping over them as they all sat in the drawing room, waiting to be received at the dining table. But of course Mary was no longer a Crawley, and the thought stung as she felt Richard's cold hands grasp around hers as Matthew and Papa let out a burst of laughter, as though Richard were willing her not to retreat to the heir. Well he needn't be worried, she thought coldly to herself. Matthew clearly didn't want anything to do with her so neither did she. Of course it was a lie.

She wasn't aware that she was watching Matthew until he made a sudden movement towards Lavinia, taking her hand and speaking out to the room, "Everyone, I have an announcement to make," He placed a swift hand on Lavinia's shoulder as eight pairs of eyes turned towards the future Earl of Grantham. Mary released her grip from Sir Richard and profoundly turned away from Richard, curious to what Matthew had to say, yet deep down knowing what it might be, and absolutely dreading it.

"It is with great honor," Matthew continued, "that I announce a new member will be added to the Crawley family very soon. Lavinia and I are having a baby," There was a tremendous uproar as every face in the drawing room lit up, calling out gasps of congratulations and well dones. Lord Grantham had clapped his hands together and gave the happy couple a hug; even Richard looked somewhat pleased as he gave Matthew and Lavinia a dry smirk.

Everyone was thrilled of course, except for Mary who sat apart from the crowd of celebrators with a forced smile on her face. So it was done. For some reason, the announcement of Lavinia's pregnancy seemed to make the whole thing completely surreal, more final than the confirmation of vows at their wedding. More final even than Matthew's furious storm away from her the day before, as she had stared after him with painful regret.

"Isn't it wonderful Mary," Her husband's cool voice awoke Mary from her tirade of misery and she put on the most sincere smile she could find.

"Absolutely wonderful!" She repeated brightly, flashing a smile to all who paid her acknowledgement. She moved away from Richard and approached Lavinia who was being practically fawned over by the women, talking of names and clothes and cribs with an excited smile on her face.

"Congratulations," Mary said, struggling to keep her tone cheerful as she took Lavinia's hand and patted it swiftly, avoiding the thought that she would much rather prefer breaking it. "Of course you'll have to look after yourself now,"

"Thank you Mary. That means a lot coming from you actually," There was something in Lavinia's eye that told Mary some ulterior motive was issuing from the future countess, but she didn't press the matter and simply fell back into the chair behind her, scanning all the happy faces with a look of gloom.

* * *

><p>Lavinia had been watching Mary the entire evening with a look of pure resentment. She liked Mary very much, but she certainly didn't trust her, however much she wanted to. The former Crawley had done nothing but stare at her husband all evening, and it sent Lavinia on absolute edge as the reality of what she must do settled in. Lavinia was not a stupid girl. She could let her emotions get in the way of reality at times, but she was not clueless enough to see that every glance Mary threw at Matthew, even the most obscene gesture were done out of longing. There was definitely still love in Mary's eyes as she gazed at Matthew, sending Lavinia bubbling with fury. No matter how many vows she exchanged with Matthew, no matter how many children she would have with him, Mary would always be hanging over them like an unwanted curtain. Lavinia loved Matthew too much to let Mary get in the way of his happiness. At least that's how she justified it. And she knew exactly what to do.<p>

_AN: Apologies for the shortness of this chapter. It was originally apart of the chapter following this, but altogether the chapter would be far too long so I had to cut this chunk off of it. Much scheming, revelations and passion in the next chapter so be on the look out! Thank you all for your lovely reviews and support. Please tell me what you think Lavinia might do if you have the time, I'd love to hear your predictions!_


	8. Distorted Hope

_AN: I just wanted to thank everyone so much for their amazing amazing response to this story. When I began to write this I never thought I'd get even one review of praise but you guys have been absolutely incredible to me, and I thank you so so so much. Your predictions were __very__ interesting, some of them almost dead on but not quite. I hope I've left enough clues and hints in the previous chapters to have this one be a little less shocking though I doubt it'll stiffen the blow. _

_Enjoy!_

_Chapter VIII_

_Distorted Hope_

Sir Richard Carlisle sat at the long winding breakfast table at Haxby Park, placed comfortably at the very head of the table, paying little to no attention to his wife at the complete other end as he indulged in his early morning newspaper. The large and rather vulgar room, decorated with enormous unsettling pictures of boars and the floor littered with mismatched carpets, was completely still, interrupted only by the sound of the paper's pages being turned vigorously and the ever so often clank of fork upon plate.

At last, Sir Richard gazed at his wife from across the table, licking his lips in such a way that it made Mary shutter. "What are your plans for today?" He asked, making great effort to keep his voice calm and mild.

"I thought I'd go up to Downton," Mary said casually, carefully choosing her words as she lay her fork down on the table. "Mama has invited me for tea,"

Richard's lips twitched into a frown, but he kept his cool. "You seem to be spending a lot of time at Downton these days,"

Mary looked up from her plate, her eyes searching, almost with a glint of pure fear, an expression that Richard had never seen on his wife before. But he figured it must have been a trick of the light, for Mary continued on in the same condescending demeanor that she always seemed to use with him.

"It's where my family lives Richard. Of course I'm going to visit every now and then," She drew a cup of water to her lips, moistening them and shifting uncomfortably in her chair.

Richard pursed his lips, still scanning the newspaper though his attention was completely on the conversation. "And when Matthew Crawley is the head of it, will you still make so many frequent visits?" He said nonchalantly, though a fire was burning in his chest.

Mary glanced up from her breakfast, her eyebrows raised. "Are you still going to linger on the past Richard? I thought that people like you tried to avoid it," And she stood up in an angered haze, leaving her husband behind to glare at her retreating back.

Richard was quite aware of where he stood in his wife's life, and he did not like it one bit.

Continuing to read the newspaper, making no attempts to try and redeem himself with Mary, a slight knock on the door brought him down to reality. He turned his head sharply and caught sight of his newly hired butler, an old chap by the name of Fulton, standing by the door.

"What is it?" He asked coolly, setting down his newspaper and turning towards the butler.

The butler seemed to flinch at his tone, but kept his ground. "Someone is here to see you Sir. A Mrs. Lavinia Crawley,"

Sir Richard's mind went into a whirlwind of curiosity, not rage. Why would she visit him of all people? And so early in the morning, most likely leaving her husband to have breakfast alone. The thought was all too tempting and so Richard stood up, using the table to help balance him. "Where is she?"

"I brought her to the drawing room Sir," Fulton responded, taking two steps back as Richard stood up.

"Very good Fulton," Sir Richard said swiftly, folding up his unfinished newspaper and tucking it into his pocket. "That will be all,"

The butler gave Richard a tiny nod, and then retreated into the ever winding halls of Haxby Park. Sir Richard took his time as he made his way to the drawing room near the front of the house, trying to decide if he should approach her with aggression or welcome. Deciding on the latter, he entered the room in a gracious manner, though his eyes said differently. "Good morning Mrs. Crawley," He said with false cheerfulness. She sat in a chair near the fireplace, her hair tidy yet her demeanor completely falling apart. She wrung her hands tightly and her left leg seemed to give a nervous twitch as he entered the room. He gave her a slight smirk, glad to know that he had that effect on her. "And what do I owe to the pleasure of this visit?"

Lavinia glanced up, her eyes glassy as she shifted them and stared at the ground, her knee once again moving in a nervous manner. "I know I shouldn't be here," She breathed softly, leaving Richard to strain his ears to hear, "but I think it's only right for you to know,"

Richard raised his eyebrows at the girl, taking a seat in front of her. He was quite too intrigued to stand anymore. "Dear me, that doesn't sound too pleasant," Though he was absolutely gleeful with yearning. "Do share your dark secret,"

Lavinia cast him another nervous look before dissolving into a tirade of tears, her emotions finally getting the best of her, leaving Sir Richard to decipher words through her sobs. He could make out Mary, Matthew, love, and mine, but it was all that Sir Richard needed.

"There there," He said giving her a comforting pat on the back, though his tone was cold and condescending. Lavinia sniffed quietly, tears still running down her cheeks as she swiftly brushed them away.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to fall to pieces," She said nasally, her bottom lip trembling. "But you see I just can't take it anymore, and I…I thought you had the right to know," Her voice cracked as she let out another sob.

Sir Richard gave her a small smile, though his head was full of a scheme, a nasty one at that, but a scheme none the less. "Don't be ashamed," He breathed, his mouth uncomfortably close to her ear. "I had the right to know, though I can't say I'm surprised," Lavinia looked up at him, another tear running down her cheek.

"What do you mean?" She sniffed.

Yes he had her right where he wanted her.

"Well you see, my wife isn't one for having what you call, a solid reputation,"

* * *

><p>Doctor Clarkson made quick work of bustling from hospital bed to hospital bed, time completely foreign to him as his long stride made quick work of the process. So far Spanish Flu had flooded the clinic, leaving the Doctor very few hours of sleep at night, though he was quite keen of the work. It kept him busy, leaving his mind to focus souly on the task at hand, and not drift to other things that usually preoccupied his mind during the day.<p>

As Clarkson made it to the last bed, he was surprised to find Isobel Crawley already there, nursing the gentleman in such a manner that he sometimes wondered why the medical profession turned their noses down at female doctors. They were clearly much more emotional and sympathetic then males, and seemed to get the job done just as well as a man.

"Mrs. Crawley," He said welcomely. "I see you've beat me to Mr. Patrickson,"

Isobel glanced up with a slight smile as she dampened the cloth that had previously been on the patients head, and returned it to its former position. "You seemed busy enough as it is," She said distractedly. "And Matthew and Lavinia were out of the house, so I decided to come in early,"

Clarkson gave her a curt nod, keeping his voice casual. "How is Lavinia shaping up after her run in with Spanish Flu? There have been no relapses I understand?"

Isobel gave him a weary look. "No, no relapses at all. And let's hope it stays that way, for the sake of her and that poor baby,"

Doctor Clarkson gaped at her in surprise, all thoughts of Spanish flu gone from his mind for merely a moment. "The poor what?"

"Her baby," Isobel repeated as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "She's expecting a baby! Weren't you the one to confirm it?"

Clarkson was utterly taken aback as he stood his ground. "No, I was not under the impression that Mrs. Crawley was pregnant," He trailed off as loud coughing emitted from Mr. Patrickson and Isobel returned back to her patient.

"Well I'm afraid Lavinia is quite under the _impression_ that she is," Isobel continued, using slight emphasis on her words.

There was a slight pause between the two as the doctor tried to gather his composure. "The next time you see her," Clarkson said, distractedly staring at the heaving patient that Isobel was trying to comfort, "could you tell her I'd like to have a talk with her?"

Isobel glanced up, a curious look filling her eyes as she was completely taken aback. "Of course,"

* * *

><p>Lavinia nervously raised a gloved hand to the door of Doctor Clarkson's office, biting her lip as she waited for a response. Upon arriving back at Crawley house later that afternoon, Isobel had promptly informed her that Doctor Clarkson required her presence up at the hospital. Lavinia was still writhing in aftershock from the conversation that she had had with Sir Richard that she hadn't even questioned the request and made her way to the hospital without hesitating, though now that she stood at the threshold, emotion placed it's icy grip on her once again.<p>

"Come in," Clarkson's deep gruff voice sounded from within the office, and Lavinia hesitantly pushed open the door, allowing herself just enough room to slip inside.

"Ah, Mrs. Crawley," Clarkson sat seated at his desk, though looked up with a small smile when she entered the room. "Have a seat," He said, beckoning to one of the stiff looking chairs in front of his desk.

Lavinia cautiously lowered herself onto the wooden chair, fiddling with the strap of her pocketbook as she raised her head in a ladylike manner.

Doctor Clarkson leaned forward, his face expressionless yet his tone soft. "I've heard news recently, that you believe you are…with child,"

Lavinia nodded her head slowly, her lips parting, not quite sure where the conversation was going.

"And who, if I may ask, confirmed this…suspicion?" He asked casually, though his body read calculating.

Lavinia felt her face fall as she stared down at the floor, yet her voice to her surprise sounded stronger than she had intended it to. "Well I had been having cramps, and I've missed my bleeding for a month, and I've been having tremendous back pain," She rushed out, a slight blush creeping up her neck as she watched Clarkson give her a small smile.

"Forgive me Mrs. Crawley, but it seems to me that you are describing some after symptoms of the Spanish flu," He heaved a sigh, hesitating before continuing, "And sometimes a woman wants to have a baby so badly, that her body produces symptoms of pregnancy, when it is most likely not the case."

Lavinia gaped at him in complete shock, all thoughts of Turkish ambassadors and secret affairs banished from her head. "But," She stammered out at last, finally claiming her composure. "But I haven't been wanting to have a baby. Not yet at least," She felt her heart rate increasing as tiny beads of sweat formed on her hands.

"Perhaps it is some other emotional turmoil then, maybe a subconscious one," Doctor Clarkson said kindly, looking thoroughly put out that he had to deliver the news to such a previously excited young woman. "Of course we can have you tested here, but from I can tell, you are most certainly not pregnant,"

Lavinia sat in a shocked silence, as the realization of what she had just been told fell over her in a wave of grief. And then it came to her, and she knew why her body had been behaving in such a way, she knew why her subconscious seemed to want her to think she was pregnant.

If she was expecting a child, then she would be completely and utterly Matthews. If she had a child then Matthew could not leave her, could not indulge with Mary without feeling a tremendous amount of guilt. She knew him far too well.

But now not only did she have to deliver the news of Mary's filthy scandal, she had to tell him that the past few weeks had been a rouse as well.


	9. Confessing the Implausible

_AN: Hello everyone! Incredibly incredibly sorry for not posting yesterday, but I was so busy I didn't have time to post. I have unfortunately had an allergic reaction to a stupid plant, thus the delay for this chapter, however I see it as a blessing in disguise because I can laze around in my bed all day writing and watching The Notebook multiple times without getting any funny looks from my family. Thanks tremendously much for your kind reviews, especially the ones about Lavinia. I love seeing a little remorse for her in the beginning chapters and then instantly disliking her in the later. Please enjoy the next installment!_

_Chapter IX_

_Confessing the Implausible_

Lavinia paced the floor of her bedroom with a small frown as she felt butterflies invade her stomach, a strong debate rising in her head. Matthew would be home from work any minute now, and Lavinia saw no reason to delay the news of her mishappening. Doctor Clarkson and her mother-in-law knew what a fool she had made of herself, why shouldn't he? But she knew it would pain her dreadfully to see his face fall, to see him gaze at her with disappointment. Of course she could always relay the news of Mary first, and enjoy the look of shock and disgust towards his cousin before filling it with despair at the prospect of no baby, but she knew it would be far too cruel to place such a burden on her husband with both surprises, so she stuck with her original plan.

Lavinia faintly heard the swing of the front door open below her, the sounds of Molsley and Matthew making polite conversation drifting up through the floorboards. So he was here. The moment had finally arrived, yet Lavinia did not find herself losing her composure in her moment of dread. She sat cautiously on the foot of the bed, stationing herself to prevent her from rocking to the floor as her fetish of a twitching leg began to course through her foot.

She heard the distant footsteps of Matthew as he climbed the stairs, knowing that he would visit her first before retreating into his dressing room. And then there he was, standing edged in the doorframe, looking positively pleased at the prospect of seeing her.

"My darling," He said softly, and she gave him a swift smile before rising to her feet and falling into his outstretched arms, giving him a swift kiss on the cheek before pulling away. Matthew gave her a curious expression before removing his jacket and placing it delicately on the dressing table.

"Mother said you wanted to see me," He said, hesitating slightly. "What is it?"

Lavinia averted her eyes, though feeling his piercing gaze on her forced her to look at him. He looked so content, so utterly at peace with the world. She didn't want to ruin his happiness, his moment of splendor before she had to let it crash with a bang. But she knew deep down that she would have to tell him. He would have to know. She couldn't live a lie forever, however much she might want to.

Matthew's eyebrows knitted together at her hesitation. "Has this something to do with the baby? Is it alright?" His eyes widening as he reached forward and rubbed her stomach fondly, not knowing that he was making the situation positively worsen.

"Well that's just so," Lavinia breathed, her voice cracking slightly. "Darling," She continued, trailing off as he gave her a look of shock.

"If there is, then tell me Lavinia," His tone was soft yet she could see the vast gaze in her eyes, and it was something she definitely couldn't take anymore.

"There is no baby," She gasped out finally, once again falling back onto the bed and looking at the ground, not wanting to see Matthew's face.

"Pardon me?" Was his response. She glanced up and saw him standing there, looking like a small child who had been disciplined for something he hadn't done.

"There was never a baby Matthew," She repeated solemnly, wiping a swift tear from her cheek. "Doctor Clarkson confirmed it yesterday. I didn't want to burden you with it," She dragged on as Matthew took a few steps forward, stopped, a look of aggravated shock gracing his face, before sitting on the bed next to her.

"I don't understand," He finally said, looking absolutely helpless as he gazed at his wife in utter disbelief. "You told everyone you were pregnant. You were so sure of yourself!"

"Well that's the thing," Lavinia grimaced distractedly, dreading what was to come out next as she spoke slowly, "Doctor Clarkson has said that when a woman desperately wants to have a baby, her…body will make it appear so," She had deliberately left out the part of her emotions for wanting a baby. She couldn't tell him that she was so utterly selfish in her reasons. "I'm so so sorry Matthew,"

Matthew averted his eyes, staring at the ground not daring to speak. Not daring to even breathe for air. None of them moved as the finality of it all began to settle around them, like a thick soupy substance that clung to them in all the wrong ways.

But Matthew's response was what truly simmered into Lavinia. He turned to her, his mouth agape as her reached out and clung her to him, his chin resting on her head as he smoothed out her hair. "It's perfectly alright darling," He breathed softly, not quite able to convey the emotion of disappointment from his voice, "There's no need to apologize to me, to anyone. It's not your fault,"

The words punctured her skin as they seemed to course through her blood in a tidal wave of guilt. But it was her fault, and if Matthew only knew, they would not be in such an embrace.

* * *

><p>Late summer soon placed its grip around all of Yorkshire in such a simmering wave of heat that most people had given up taking walks outside and had simply retreated to the sanctuary of their homes, waving fans, magazines, and anything solid they could get their hands on to try to lift the heat. The evenings however were quite cool, and with the late summer yearly fair back in town, Mary decided to treat herself to a small excursion down to the village.<p>

She was just reaching for evening hat that hung in the front hall closet of Haxby when a familiar yet unsettling voice echoed behind her.

"And where do you think you're going," She felt her husband's drawl echo around the hall, its coldness placing a damper on her brief period of cheerfulness.

She hesitated before turning to face him, placing her hands in front of her. "Just down to the village. The fair's back in town and I thought I'd pay a visit," She gave him a swift yet unemotional smile, kissing him on the cheek as she pulled her gloves up to her elbows.

Richard gave her a small smirk, leaning up against one of the many wooden tables that littered the hall. "You didn't think to include me into your plan?" He asked with a slight tilt of his head, leaving Mary to raise her eyebrows and blink.

"Well a fair didn't seem to be your cup of tea darling," She chimed good naturedly, though inside her true motives for not inviting him boiled up, threatening to release. However Sir Richard made no move to prompt them out and nodded his head, wetting his lips in a way that made Mary nearly cringe.

"You're probably right," Richard said, leaning forward and giving her a lingering kiss. "Behave yourself," He added as an afterthought, taking Mary's arm and gazing into her eyes, a look of warning passing over his face.

"I don't know what you could possibly mean," She said, raising her head in a dignifying way, yet she was quite sure that she did.

The fair was as she had always remembered it, ever since she was a small child; lively and bright, the look on everyone's faces added to the swift cheerfulness that seemed to come as an aurora that glimmered along with the bright lights. She was quite glad that she had escaped from the prison she liked to call a house and the jail warden whom she called her husband. It was almost as though he were speculating her, waiting for her to crack in a bundle of emotions. Well if he wanted a show, Mary had diligently decided, he would be receiving none. At least not in public.

She stopped fondly across the street from a game stand she had indulged at with Matthew many many years ago, however it might as well had been a lifetime, smiling as she remembered their conversation of their life and the great matter. How trivial it seemed, compared to what they were going through now. It was where she had finally let lose that she did feel something, not exactly love, but a sense of fondness that barely even she was aware of.

She continued on, taking in a sharp breath of air as a pain of loss and remorse fell over her once more. How stupid and insolent she had been back then, not caring for anyone but herself. But then again, what much had changed? Lately it seemed that Sir Richard was turning her colder, as though by some will of-

"Mary darling!" A cheerful voice pulled her out of her bitter thoughts that were turning darker by the minute, and she was truthfully grateful when she saw Isobel making her way towards her, a large smile on her face. She needed a distraction. However her heart sunk tremendously as she saw Lavinia and Matthew trailing behind her, holding hands as they all gathered under the tree that Mary had unwarily been leaning against.

"How are you?" Isobel chanted, leaning in a kissing her on the cheek. "We haven't seen you in quite some time!"

Mary's eyes fluttered over Matthew who seemed to be wearing a genuine smile on his handsome face, and it immediately cheered her. Perhaps he didn't hate her nearly as much as she thought.

"Oh you know, around. Haxby has been keeping me very busy," It was a lie of course, but what else could she offer as explanation to her absence from the constant diners at Downton? Her husband no longer wanted her to go? That would quite cheer the atmosphere.

The conversation then turned to idle chit chat about the hospital and the treatments, Mary contributing little in the conversation, hoping her eyes were not glazed. Medical purposes bored her dearly, so she was quite grateful when Isobel suggested her and Lavinia go to the food stand to retrieve beverages for them all.

The duo left, Lavinia casting a weary glance over her shoulder, leaving Matthew and Mary to wallow in an awkward silence. Mary sighed, deciding to break the ice.

"I was sorry to hear about Lavinia and the baby. I know how hard that must have been on you," She said with a casual coolness. The honest truth was that she was not sorry at all, but would not relent on the matter. For the millionth time, she reminded herself that it was over.

Matthew stared down at her, his lips parted sadly. "Yes, it was quite a shock. But we have our whole lives to start a family," He trailed off, bringing his hand awkwardly to move back his hair.

Mary smiled at him, deciding to turn the conversation to something reminiscent. "Do you remember the last fair we shared?" She asked politely.

He grinned at her. "Of course. I think it's where we gave each other a sort of truce, if I remember,"

She was pleased that it had not left his memory, worried that cluttered thoughts of war and Lavinia would block it out. They stood there together in a content silence, the aurora of fond memories bearing over the two of them, all thoughts of tiresome husbands leaving her thoughts.

* * *

><p>Lavinia stood a great distance from the tree, observing Mary and Matthew with a scrutinizing gaze as they talked happily, smiling at each other and laughing as Matthew said something in a low hush. Her stomach flipped as Mary responded, causing yet another chuckle from the two of them.<p>

It was time.

* * *

><p>The night was young when Matthew crawled into bed with Lavinia, turning on his side and leaning on his elbow, watching her in the dark. "Lavinia dear," He whispered, gently brushing a soft red curl from her face.<p>

She smiled up at him, Matthew completely unaware of the inner turmoil coursing through her veins.

"What is it darling?" She asked in a hush voice, her lips parting as she gazed at his face fondly.

"Well," He brought his hand to her neck, kissing it gently as she writhed in pleasure under his lips. He leaned up, causing her to frown at his released touch. "I was thinking," He hesitated as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. He continued, well aware of how tremendously close they were now. "If you wanted to have a child, you could've just asked," He said with a small smile, as she beamed up at him.

"Oh really Mr. Crawley?" She asked with a nervous giggle as she clung to his shoulders, his mouth once again returning to her neck. But when he glanced up at her, he found her expression quite changed, solemn and desolate as she gazed at him with glassy eyes.

"What is it darling?" He asked worriedly, caressing her cheek in precaution.

"Matthew," She breathed in his scent, her bottom lip trembling dangerously. "I have to tell you something, about Lady Mary. And it isn't very nice,"


	10. Bitter Hierocracy

_AN: You guys are __truly__ incredible! Thanks so so much for your continued support and constant musings, they really make my day! Special thanks to namelesspanda who's been my confidence booster this week as well as entertaining me with fantasies of Maggie Smith with a sniper rifle. Cheers everyone, please enjoy the next installment!_

* * *

><p><em>Chapter X<em>

_Bitter Hierocracy_

Matthew lay on his back, his neck bending at a slightly awkward angle, Lavinia snuggled tightly under the crook of his arm. This was one of the only comfortable positions he had been able to indulge in after his injury, though needless to say it wasn't very productive. His eyes were wide and unfeeling as he gazed up at the ceiling, mindlessly stroking Lavinia's head as the confrontation he had just been plagued with flooded his mind, sending it into a dizzy rampage of emotion, feelings ripped from a sense of betrayal to an almost sympathy and longing.

So that was why Mary hadn't accepted him. It must surely be the real reason. Did he think so little of her to think that she was only after him for his title? It was why Lavinia was lying softly on his bare chest instead of Mary, it was why Mary was stuck in the large and vulgar Haxby Park with her miserable excuse of a husband.

He locked his jaw, turning his head from Lavinia's as he gazed around the bedroom he had shared with his wife for that past five months. There was still a sense of complete and utter distraught and a yearning to know why, to understand her true motives for taking a man, a Turkish diplomat at that, into her bed. It stung to think of such a thing, and he absentmindedly ran an anxious hand through his hair.

It would explain so much, yet of course there was always the lingering thought that Lavinia could be lying to him. But how could she know of the Turkish diplomat who had indeed seemed to get along very well with Mary the day he came to visit? Why would she lie to him in the first place? Matthew was quite confident that their marriage was built on a fond trust in eachother, and he was much too tired to take it into question.

And then of course, there was the prospect that the Turk had ended up dead the next morning. Surely that had played into Mary's scandal somehow, however he hadn't pressed Lavinia in the matter. She had seemed so truly concerned as she gazed up at him with a remorseful face that he didn't want to drag the subject back into place. No, it was best to let it rest for the moment, however much he wanted to plead and beg with her to tell him that it was all some sick cruel joke.

* * *

><p>Edith Crawley had no original intention whatsoever to be visiting her sister, however on a blistery August day she found herself on the doorstep of Haxby, waiting patiently to be granted admission into the huge and almost baron house. Her mama had taken great precaution as she pleaded with Edith to check on Mary, who had lately appeared less and less in public, and even we she did show up for dinners and such, her eyes appeared swollen and her once flawless pale complexion seemed dark and distraught.<p>

The truth was, Edith did feel a tiny jot of pity towards her sister, just a tiny jot. Of course she was envious that Mary was married and lived in a house the size of two Downtons, however the entire prospect seemed rather daunting to Edith. Sir Richard did not seem the loving husband type, and seemed to treat Mary with such a coldness that it seemed the only way he would properly show her affection was with a ten foot pole. And then of course there was the enormous house that towered over Edith as she waited in the wind outside of the mansion. It was so eerie and unwelcoming that it reminded Edith more of a prison than something one would call home.

She was quite grateful when at last Folsom opened to door and granted her admittance, Edith quite glad to be out of the seemingly angry eyes of the house. The main hall, if possible, seemed even more daunting than the exterior however and Edith shivered at the lack of air that seemed to be sucked from her upon entrance.

"You're here to visit Lady Mary I presume?" Folsom asked, his face a bright shade of red as he gazed at the middle Crawley sister.

"Yes I am," Edith replied, slightly confused at the sudden timidness of the butler. "Would you please take me to her?"

Folsom nodded without response and began to lead her down the vast corridor, Edith staring around the hall with eyes wide open, taking in the crude tapestries that hung from the walls, depicting boar hunts and animal slaughterings. She shivered despite herself as she followed the butler into a large sitting room where Mary sat by the window, croqueting absentmindedly as she tapped her foot nervously upon the floor.

For the first time in her entire life, Edith felt truly sorry for her eldest sister. Mary looked completely distraught, her eyes bloodshot and her face gaunt and shallow and full of grief. She turned to Edith with a slight frown, her hair out of place and ragged, stands of it covering her neck.

No this was not the calm and together Mary that Edith knew.

"Why are you here?" Mary's cold tone distracted Edith as she took a seat in front of her sister, attentively clutching her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

"Mama," Was her only answer, yet Mary seemed to understand and gave her a stiff nod before returning back to her pallet of threads. Edith heaved a sigh, torn between a feeling of righteousness that her sister had finally gotten what Edith thought she deserved and utter pity from how horrible Mary looked. "Mary," Edith began hesitantly, fidgeting in her chair. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes everything's fine. Why do you ask?" Mary snapped immediately, as though she had been anticipating the question and rehearsed it on multiple accounts, though knowing Mary, Edith wouldn't doubt it.

"You just don't seem yourself," Edith said smally, looking down at her dress, suddenly very distracted by the hem of her skirt. "Does this have something to do…with Sir Richard?"

Mary jerked up at the name and she answered just as suddenly as she had done the previous question. "My husband has made me very happy,"

Edith nearly snorted. Yes she could _definitely _see that. "Has he now?" Was her only response, once again feeling dreadfully uncomfortable in the presence of a seemingly broken Mary. "Does Matthew know you're like this?" She didn't know why she had dragged his name into the conversation, only that she knew from experience that Mary's sudden mood swings usually had something to do with him. She had stood by the sidelines and watched while Mary had her heart wrenched by Matthew, and then torn apart even more at the announcement of his engagement to another woman. She had watched as Mary nearly fell to pieces at Matthew's wedding and nearly sprung from the alter at her own. She had stood by as Mary writhed in the despair of the prospect of Matthew being a father, but lightening immediately when the whole thing had been a lie.

Edith had to admit, it was truly agonizing to watch.

Mary did not respond, simply gazed up at Edith with a blank stare, as though seeing her sister for the first time.

Edith sighed and continued on, not sure where her sudden burst of strength was coming from. "Shall I tell you what I think? I think that avoiding him is rather stupid. If I know there's anyone that you need right now it's probably Matthew, and he probably needs you just as much," Edith let out, cringing as Mary's expression turned to one of pure bitterness and anger.

"Thank you Edith," But there was no tone of appreciation in Mary's voice. Instead vast coldness filled her tone as she clenched her jaw, Edith taking this as her signal that it was probably time to leave.

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><p>Lavinia stood stationary at the kettle in the kitchen, wearily pacing back and forth as she waited for the water to boil. She was quite regretful that she had let the kitchen staff have an afternoon off, however it did give her hands something to do as her thoughts were cluttered with preoccupying thoughts.<p>

Matthew had left early that morning for work, not bothering to wake her as he crawled out of bed. However Lavinia had been awake for hours, listening to his ragged breath and soft sighs, smart enough to know that he hadn't slept a wink. She watched as he hastily through on his clothes, not bothering to wake Molsley for such a mundane task and left the room without a single look of affection towards Lavinia.

She had remained in bed for much of the morning, trying to will herself up to face the day however not finding the strength to do so. At last at around eleven she had crawled agonizingly across the bed, lingering on Matthew's side as she breathed in his scent. Perhaps flooding his brain with scandals and Turkish diplomats hadn't been such a good idea after all. But if it was to keep him from fraternizing with Mary, to keep him disgusted with her, it would work. No matter how truly awful Lavinia felt at the prospect, it had to work. For her sake as well as his, or so she had diligently convinced herself.

Her heart leapt as the swing of the front door brought her back down to earth and she scampered hurriedly into the hall, placing a careful smile amongst her features as she saw Matthew carefully closing the door behind him.

"Hello my darling!" Lavinia sighed out, her heart reeling to implode from the fondness that he had come home for lunch, a notion that he hadn't taken for quite some time. "I've made tea and sandwiches, and we can have a nice lunch all by our-"

"I'm terribly sorry dear," Matthew's tentive voice cut her off as he ran a hand over his anxious face. "I've a splitting headache and I'm not up for much to eat. If you don't mind I'd like to lie down," His voice was distracted and Lavinia's face fell, all of her cheerful emotions seemingly drained out of her.

"Of course," She mumbled diligently, Matthew too preoccupied to notice her downfall of expression.

"Thank you my darling," Matthew answered, kissing her on the cheek as he took to the stairs. But the kiss was hurried and lacked emotion, leaving a very chagrined Lavinia to gaze after him.

Lavinia jumped wildly as the doorbell rang, snapping her out of her despair as she trudged towards the door, opening it to a crack as she peered to see who it was. She caught a glimpse of his snake like grin and boisterous hat before she nearly slammed the door in his face.

"What are you doing here?" She hissed, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that Matthew was not lingering in the hall. No one else was in the house but them.

"Come now," Sir Richard breathed through the crack, his rough hands leaning up against the door. "Can't a husband visit his wife's distant family?"

Lavinia's cold gaze faltered, still not open to letting him in the house, but quite curious to what he had to say.

"What do you want," Her voice cracked, not quite able to keep the worried tone from her voice.

Richard seemed to hesitate, only for a moment as he took in their conversation between the cracked door, taking off his hat and placing it tentavely under his arm. "Did you tell him?" From the expression on Lavinia's face, he knew that there was no need for elaboration.

"Yes," She whispered cooly, once again casting a fervent glance over her shoulder.

"And?" Richard pressed, pushing firmer once again against the door, straining his ears to hear Lavinia's response.

"He seems quite distraught," She answered, not quite able to keep the pain away from her voice. "Though to my knowledge, he hasn't confronted Mary,"

Lavinia could practically hear Sir Richard frown on the other end of the frame, the sound of shuffling feet being the only sound to grace ears. "Are you coming to the dinner at Downton tomorrow night?" He asked her, Lavinia confused at where the conversation was going.

"Yes, we are," She answered.

"I'll push Mary to come with me. She's been rather hesitant to be around family lately, though I think a little _conversation_ with cousin Matthew is just the thing she needs,"

Lavinia nodded hesitantly, biting her lip as she truly comprehended the mess she had gotten herself into.


	11. Deserted Judgment

_AN: Well hello everyone! This chapter is basically the big shi-bang of this story. I've been a little nervous to post it but my anxiety has gotten the best of me. Hope it turns out alright! Enjoy!_

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><p><em>Chapter XI<em>

_Deserted Judgement_

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><p>The clatter of china plates, silverware, and idle chit-chat did nothing to block out the sound of Lavinia's thudding heart as she glanced across the table to where Matthew was sitting by Mary. They were not talking to each other, simply smiling when they caught the others eye and this made Lavinia even more nervous.<p>

Why hadn't Matthew confronted Mary by now? What could possibly be holding him back? Sir Richard and Lavinia had taken great precaution to make sure that Matthew and Mary sat together in the drawing room, and beside each other at the dinner table, yet Matthew hadn't cracked yet. In fact they hadn't shared a single word all evening. Lavinia looked over at Sir Richard, her expression hopeless as he licked his lips, raising a glass of red wine to his mouth. So far their plan had been unsuccessful. Yet Lavinia wasn't sure if this was a good thing.

On one hand, she felt that Matthew had a right to know and a right to confront Mary about it. Then they would despise each other and Lavinia's life would proceed to be normal, being the only woman in Matthew's life. On the other hand however, she felt a deep sense of regret at doing such a horrible thing. Mary didn't deserve it, she knew this deep down. It wasn't her fault that Matthew was still in love with her, after all these years; however Mary seemed to love him back just as much. With this thought in mind, she decided it was better if they hated each other.

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><p>"So it is true," The words echoed around the great drawing room at Haxby Park, hitting Mary with a giant pound of despair as she nodded her head solemnly, Matthew's unreadable expression vivid in her eyes. He had come to Haxby that afternoon, had peddled through rain and mud and all other obstacles just to hear Mary confirm what he already knew to be correct. She had taken a Turk into her bed, and the next day he was found dead.<p>

Matthew's head felt dizzy as he stared at Mary, his thoughts trying to comprehend their conversation. "Why?" Was the only thing he could gasp out.

Mary seemed to writhe with agony, looking around the room helplessly before a swift tear ran down her cheek. "I don't know Matthew! I was so stupid, so utterly utterly stupid, I didn't think of the consequences or anything else," Her face looked deranged and wild, but Matthew pressed on, determined to know the truth.

"But why didn't you tell me? After all these years Mary," His face was full of longing and regret, eyes swift as he watched her expression.

"Because I knew you would despise me, and that I really couldn't bear," There was long pause between the two of them, drinking in the others response, Mary wearing a sense of helplessness among her normally together features while Matthew was torn somewhere between revelation and understanding, though his voice wavered when he spoke.

"Is that why you didn't accept me," He breathed out, Mary's face rising to look at him.

"Yes," She said at last, not bothering to further elaborate.

Matthew seemed to succumb to a deep sense of thought, carefully choosing his words as he drew closer to her, wanting to envelope her in an amorous hug, to tell her that everything would be okay, to wipe the tears away from her cheeks. "Mary…I could never despise you,"

Mary looked up at him in utter shock. She had expected him to go on an angry rampage, to shout things at her, calling her a slut and not worthy of the love of any man. Yet he had kept his cool and stood before her, lips parted and hair disheveled from the rain.

She drew close to him, licking her lips as she gazed up at him, a deep burning sense flooding her stomach, accompanied by a tiny voice telling her no. But she wanted him, she wanted him with every fiber of her being, with every tiny piece of existence.

Matthew stood stationary as she drew closer, his breath rattling at the feel of her presence so near him, quite aware of the effect she had on him. His breath drew back as they leaned in closer, as though some magnetic force were drawing them together, despite their conscious screaming for it all to cease.

And then their lips crashed together with a pounding throb of heat, and love, and everything that had been bottled up deep down in their bodies. The feel of her lips against his felt so right, much more right than any kiss he had ever shared with Lavinia.

_Lavinia._

His eyes widened as they pulled away gasping for breath. Mary leaned in to indulge again, but he breathed onto her cheek as she brought her mouth upon his neck. "No," He barely breathed out, his voice ragged from the shivers she was sending down his neck. "Mary please,"

But if anything his slight moans of protest only increased her need of him, her want of him, and her mouth returned to his lips as their tongues danced around each other, drinking in what they had longed for, for so long. She pushed him back into the wall as her hands began to edge over his chest, fiddling with his collar and his tie as he once more let out a moan for it all to cease.

"Folsom," He gasped out, bracing himself against the bookshelf.

"He never comes unless I ring," Mary breathed, her lips playing slightly over his cheek.

"Richard," He said, more demanding this time, despite his hands running urgently over her back as she pressed closer against him.

"London," Was all she could gasp out as his fingers, cold from the rain outside, tickled her neck, sending her into a wave of utter desire as their lips met again, this time deeper, and more passionate than they had ever kissed before. She absentmindedly undid his buttons, bracing her hands on his bare chest, feeling the cotton shirt flap wildly around her fingers as he picked her up and reversed their roles, placing her back to the wall as he fiddled with her dress, all thoughts of marriage and duty and commitment completely forgotten in their tiny world consisting of the other.

* * *

><p>They lay beside each other on the floor, legs entangled and arms clinging to the other as though letting go would will them to forget their complete and utter moment of passion. Matthew's breath was ragged in Mary's ear as they both tremored with aftershocks, the lingering feel of their skin on each other rushing through their veins.<p>

He sighed into the nape of her neck and she shivered against his touch, aware of how utterly real it felt, sending her spiraling into a happy oblivion. "Thank you," She muttered happily, looking up at his face but frowning at what she saw.

His eyes looked so distraught as the realism of what had just happened flooded him completely, staring down at Mary, the mistress he had taken in, the woman he was not married to, thoughts turning to his wife who was back at home. "We shouldn't have done that," He breathed out at last, untangling himself from Mary's grip and sitting up distractedly, gazing out at the rain the poured outside.

Mary bit her lip as she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, face falling as she saw his muscles tense at her touch. "Matthew," She breathed. She knew it was wrong. If anything she had merely proven that all the rumors he had heard, all mutterings from Edith that she was a slut had finally crashed upon her. And what of Lavinia? And Richard? They had merely been sacrificed upon the altar of Mary and Matthew's ecstasy, lost completely until the whole thing was over and the feeling of bitter regret hit them in a hangover of their passion.

"My god Mary," Matthew breathed out, his eyes gazing bitterly at the floor. "What have we done,"

Mary could have burst into tears. How stupid they were, how stupid she was, to think that this moment of love could have mended their fences. It had been glorious while it had lasted but their boundment to another person had hung over the entire experience, leaving them to writhe in their own agony.

Matthew soundlessly rose to his feet, avoiding eye contact with Mary as he re-dressed himself, Mary hesitating slightly as she drew up and did the same. The agonizing silence between them if anything made the whole situation worse, as memories of the cries of pleasure they had shared merely moments before seemed completely foreign.

And then they stared at each other, for hours it seemed, even if it had only been for a few bitter seconds. Matthew's face was expressionless, yet Mary knew him well enough to sense a great flow of inner turmoil flowing from his emotions. Mary too felt regret, yet not to her betrothed as Matthew probably did. Merely that she had let her judgment so bitterly desert her.

Matthew opened his mouth, as if he was going to say something, before catching his breath and casting one last lingering look at Mary before he departed out the door.

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><p>AN: Extremely curious to what you guys think of this chapter. I'm in the process of debating what to think about it and would love to hear from you!<p> 


	12. Cleansing and Turmoil

_AN: Thanks to everyone for their tremendous support to the last chapter! It meant a lot to me considering I was so worried about it. Apologies for this chapter not being up yesterday, but I had to venture into the real world for a few hours. However I am back in happy Downton writing land and here to present to you chapter twelve. Not much to say about it despite the fact that it's angsty as per usual and I wrote it on a bus on the way to class while nursing a coffee withdrawal so if it's more depressing than usual, that's my excuse._

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><p><em>Chapter XII<em>

_Cleansing and Turmoil _

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><p>The rain was just starting to pick back up when Matthew clambered into the front door of Crawley house, his face full of anguish and remorse as he stood in the door frame, trying to catch his breath. It had happened. All of it. And if any worse, he had let it happen. Running an anxious hand through his hair, Matthew set down his cap on the table next to him and dragged himself up from the door, shivering whether from the rain or self loathing, he couldn't tell.<p>

"Matthew is that you?" Lavinia's voice drifted down the hall, it's source coming from the drawing room as she stuck her head out into the foyer, a smile on her face. Matthew felt his heart skip a beat as he tried to draw back his composure, heaving a breath and forcing a smile onto his face, despite how vigorously he was shaking inside.

"Hello my darling," He barely managed to mutter out as he enveloped her in a hug, Lavinia stiffening at the impromptu of the situation but immediately relaxing in his arms. How innocent she was. How completely ignorant she was to the thoughts swimming through Matthew's mind, caressing gently the body that had just been in the arms of another woman.

And then he felt a sudden urge for her, a need to cleanse himself with nothing but her around him. It was sickening, the whole situation was sickening, but he brought her lips to his, softly at first but tenderly rising it to something more vigorous. It was almost as though he were redeeming himself, washing away the scent and feel of Mary with Lavinia, moving his distant cousin completely from his mind as he hoisted Lavinia up to the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as she kissed him back as tenderly as he was. But then he remembered that this was the exact position he had been in with Mary, nearly an hour ago, and he dropped her from the wall, instead swinging her around and carrying her up the stairs, adrenaline rushing and mind racing as he kicked open the door, his heart beating sharply as they fell upon the bed.

His brow sweated as the process began to heighten, hands on each other's raw skin, clothes littering on the forgotten floor behind him. There was no passion, at least not from him. In fact, he felt absolutely nothing as he lingered over her body, kissing everything he knew to be so familiar. It was merely routine and he nearly laughed bitterly at the thought. What a coward he was, what an absolute fraud, sleeping with two women in one day, one completely oblivious to his actions with the other.

And with this in mind, he pulled away from Lavinia, sitting up and breathing harshly, his chest rising and falling deeply as he rolled off of his wife. Lavinia let out a gasp of confusion, she too breathing deeply as she turned her head to look at him, arms spread wide over the bed, looking so utterly helpless.

"What is it?" She breathed, flinching as he cast a dark look at her. Matthew let out another frustrated sigh, running a damp hand through his hair. No, he would not trouble her with anything. He at least owed her this, this one moment of solitude? Yes, he would not burden her. He would make her happy despite how tormented his body became with every advance towards her.

"Nothing," He muttered softly, rolling back over and caressing her cheek longingly, pulling her in for yet another kiss. "Nothing at all,"

* * *

><p>"I'm just asking if it's true or not," Mary's retort was icy as she glared at her husband across the dinner table, her patience completely deserting her. She was quite confident that Sir Richard had told Matthew about the Turkish diplomat and was completely distraught that he would do such a thing, though frankly it didn't surprise her.<p>

"No, I did not tell _him_," Sir Richard bit back, clattering down his fork and knife onto the table as he leaned forward across the table. "So he did confront you about it?"

Mary glared at him, her temper rising along with all the other food she had previously consumed. God he made her sick, so sick that she wanted to writhe and choke out every ghastly food she had eaten in the house she shared with him, every raw emotion and false smile they had passed, every sleepless night she had spent with him. She felt a brief burning in her throat as she spoke. "He did, as a matter a fact," She did not press that matter of how Matthew had found out.

"And what was his…reaction," Sir Richard tried to sound nonchalant yet Mary's swift ears caught the slight edge in his voice and she bit the inside of her mouth, willing herself to not lose it completely.

"He was very forgiving," She breathed out, nearly letting a smile cross her face as she remembered the proceeding activity, the feel of his body upon his, his hands, his tongue, all coursing together to cause her immediate pleasure. No she felt no remorse, not towards Richard at least. Of course she had been distraught that Matthew had so bitterly regretted it, but it was a sacrifice she had to make in order to truly find tranquility amongst her otherwise chaotic life. She had despised herself for a few days after it of course, but only a few days. In fact, the whole idea that she had been untrue to Richard rather pleased her, however twisted the thought might have been.

"Was he now," Richard's voice like ice cut across her thoughts as she glared up at him, placing her fork delicately beside her plate as she rose to her feet, a strong course of emotions flowing through her bloodstream.

"If you'll excuse me Richard, I've a splitting headache and don't feel up to eating much." She did not wait for a response, for a protest or a retort, she merely evaded the room, blocking out the uneasy presence that drifted away with her.

And yet Sir Richard did not do anything to stop her. He watched his wife depart the table with a gleaming yet malicious gaze, sitting back in his chair and closing his eyes, a small smile twitching at the edge of his lips.

So it had begun.

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><p>"Matthew will you please stop pacing?" Isobel's voice echoed around the drawing room at Crawley house, though doing nothing to ease her son's tension as he cast a fervent glance at her before continuing to reduce back to his shell. Isobel heaved a sigh, raising a teacup to her lips as she watched her son tread back and forth between the fireplace and the door. "It's not as though she's on her deathbed, she merely has…perceptions," Of course Lavinia had been wrong before, her dire thoughts leading her to believe that she had been pregnant nearly five months ago, though this time Lavinia seemed so sure, so absolutely positive that Isobel could do nothing but summon Dr. Clarkson to calm the poor girl's nerves.<p>

Matthew of course had been informed of the happenings upon his arrival from work, and he'd done nothing but recoil and worry for the past twenty minutes that Clarkson had been up with Lavinia, not bothering to express his thoughts though Isobel knew a great deal of what was going on in his head. "My dear if you'll only have a little water, I'm sure you'd-,"

"No," His voice had come across as cold though he had no intentions of it being so. His mind seemed to be going a mile a minute, heart hammering from the moment the news had entered his head. He had unconsciously been biting the inside of his mouth, and blood flowed down his throat along with the sweat his face had been emitting in bitter anticipation.

And then at last a door swung above him and footsteps scattered the hall, leaving Matthew to scurry up the stairs, his heart in his throat as Clarkson came into view, closing the door behind him as he turned towards Matthew, a small smile gracing his face. Matthew raised his eyebrows at the doctor, not willing himself to speak for fear he would spill his breakfast all over the floor.

"Congratulations Mr. Crawley," Was all Clarkson said, his eyes twinkling as he stepped aside, making room for Matthew to pass him into Lavinia's bedroom. Matthew stood hesitantly at the door, his heart hammering as he pushed it open, a swift gust of fresh air enveloping his body as he closed the door behind him.

Lavinia sat on the edge of the bed, gazing expectantly at Matthew as he entered the room, a small smile dancing upon her features as she stood upon his entering. There was no need for words between the two as Lavinia merely nodded her head, staring elatedly up at him as he willed himself to look away.

He didn't know what to feel, his emotions becoming extremely varied as thoughts of bitterness turned to elation and then faded fast between remorse and regret. At last he spoke, his voice dry as he forced a smile onto his face, willing himself to be happy though not wanting to be.

"Fantastic," The word was forced and artificial, causing no stir of emotions inside him, no feelings of love or tenderness. It was merely the dull word used to describe something like a croquet game, or the weather at that. Fantastic.

Though Lavinia seemed pleased with it, and pulled him in for a swift embrace, she clinging tightly while his grasp was little to nothing at all.

Things were far from fantastic.

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><p><em>AN: This chapter has had me nervously biting my nails for the past 24 hours to the point of me getting up in the middle of the night, deleting parts, adding parts, switching parts around and ultimately coming out with what you have just read, so obviously I'm extremely nervous to know what you guys think of this one. Thanks for reading!<em>


	13. Acticipation of the Worst Kind

_AN: I know I say this every chapter but thank you loads for your lovely reviews! You guys are far too good to me. I'm working hard right now to get a response out to everyone, so just hold tight! I had a hard time writing this chapter, mostly because it's so bitter and oozing out angst so I hope you guys won't be too utterly horrified. Plus this chapter number is the ever so unlucky 13, there's bound to be bad things happening. Enjoy…if you can!_

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><p><em>Chapter XIII<em>

_Anticipation of the Worst Kind_

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><p>Excuses. Matthew seemed to be making a lot of those lately. Whether from lying to Lavinia or lying to himself frankly, Matthew's day was usually ridden with them. During the months of Lavinia's pregnancy, he had thrust himself into work, hoping the large amount of papers and wills and all sorts of other mundane tasks would drag him into a world revolving souly around dull testimonies. At least it took his mind off Lavinia, and their unborn child. And Mary.<p>

He was never a man who was prone to shying away from confrontation, yet during the months of Lavinia's ailment, he for once in his life, didn't want to face any of it. He didn't want to face the fact that with every month approaching Lavinia's due date, she seemed to swell with ignorance, literally and figuratively. She had no idea that Matthew had been untrue to her, no idea of the conflict that waged war every single day inside his mind. In fact, Matthew envied her pure bliss, knowing that if she knew what he knew, all of it would be whisked away faster than snuffing out a candle.

And so when Lord Grantham had asked him to come up to the estate and sort out some matters with some far east property, Matthew was quite glad to escape the prison that he once called home. It was an early Saturday morning, Yorkshire seeming to get quiet accustomed with early December, and the sun played and gleamed on white patches of snow, tiny puffs of breath emitting from his mouth as Matthew trooped up the path to the big house.

Downton truly looked magnificent in the winter, the glare of the weather dancing off of the large windows, the bronze colour of the stone shining brighter with ever approaching step he took. His eyes drifted over the tree that was planted off of the left wing, the tree where he had flirted, laughed, and bickered diligently with Mary, and was quite surprised to see someone sitting on the bench below it. Despite the sun outside, it was rather cold and the figure didn't appear to have a coat on.

All thoughts of property matters abandoning his head, Matthew retraced his steps and trudged off the path into the snow, eyes widening as he recognized Mary, legs crossed and bare arms on her lap as she gazed off in the other direction, completely oblivious to his approach.

"Hello," He said, fervently announcing himself as he hesitantly entered the shade of the tree. She glanced up at him and gave him a raw smile. Clearly their previous encounter had not abandoned either of their thoughts.

"How are you?" Her tone was neutral, and taking this as a peace confrontation, Matthew sat beside her, removing his hat and placing it on his lap.

"Very well thank you," His lips twitched at how formal their conversations had turned into as of late. They had barely exchanged two words since the day in the drawing room, however they were expected to be civil towards each other at dinner, and so they were.

"I take it Lavinia's doing well. With the baby," There was a slight bitterness in Mary's voice as Matthew cast her a side and heaved a sigh.

"Listen Mary, I-" He started but was immediately startled as Mary cut him off, her words fast and harsh.

"No you listen to me Matthew. I don't give a damn about your measly apologies, or your attempts to try and redeem yourself by having a civil conversation with me. We both made a stupid mistake that day, and it clearly had no affect on you because after you were done with me you went off and had a baby with your wife. So don't burden me with your apologies. I've enough on my mind as it is," Her tone was cold and sharp, not bothering to pass him a look as he gaped at her in stunned silence, leaning back into the chair as though he had been slapped.

At last he let out a steady breath, running an anxious hand through his hair before choosing his words carefully. "Mary, you're wrong about one thing. It meant everything to me,"

There was a long and rather awkward silence as the two sat together, gazing out over the grounds of Downton Abbey. They might as well have been talking about the weather for the expressions on their faces, but after years of concealing emotion towards each other they were quite good at hiding their feelings.

"I have to tell Lavinia you know," The confession was sudden, yet he knew that the idea had been the one thing that was on his mind for the past few months, the one thing that prevented him from sleeping at night, curled up in the arms of his ignorant wife.

Mary's eyes widened though she kept her composure as she turned to him, "Why?" Was all she could get out without concealing a dry sob.

"Because she has the right to know," He did not want to go into detail about the trust they shared, how acting as if nothing had happened was being dishonorable, how carrying the burden by himself was eating him up from the inside.

"Matthew, please don't," Her tone was stiff as though willing herself not to break into tears as he gazed down at her with such a look of turmoil that she wanted writhe away from his stare. "Please not yet,"

"Mary, I-" And for the second time that day, she cut him off, her tone once again turning chilly.

"Matthew please. Don't burden her, don't burden me with it yet," Her tone was pleading as brown eyes met blue, Matthew biting his lip before giving her a hesitant nod.

"Alright, I won't tell her now," He sighed, pulling his hat back onto his head as he rose from the bench. "But she has to know someday,"

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><p>Lavinia writhed in pain, her stomach contracting slowly and bitterly as she cringed under the fervent gaze of her mother-in-law, who was eyeing her as she lowered her glass. It was the fifth time within an hour that their afternoon tea had been interrupted by the sharp pains from Lavinia's gut, and she tried to conceal her pain, despite how much it hurt her to conceal it.<p>

"Lavinia," Isobel said softly, leaning forward and taking her hand. "It's okay, you don't have to hide the pain from me. Pregnancy and labor are one of the most difficult tasks a woman has to endure during her life,"

Thankful towards Isobel's understanding, Lavinia released her concealed pain, letting out a sharp intake of breath as another contraction peaked and sent her into a nauseas blackout.

"I don't understand," She gasped out when her head had finally cleared. "Why are they happening so frequently now? I'm not due for another month and a half," Her voice was ragged as her contraction calmed down to a steady hum, though a tingling sensation flooded her torso.

"I don't think it's anything too serious," Isobel reassured her, though from her tone Lavinia could tell that her mother-in-law was worried as well. "You just have been under a lot of stress lately, and the baby can sense that," The smile on Isobel's face however, was not comforting as Lavinia let out another strangled gasp as a sixth contraction flooded her body.

"Perhaps you should lie down," Isobel helped Lavinia over to the sofa and propped a pillow behind her head. "I'll have Mrs. Bird make you a nice cup of warm milk, that always helped me when I was pregnant with Matthew,"

Lavinia gave her a quick nod as Isobel left the room, closing her eyes as she rested her hands on her stomach. "Don't come too soon little one, for your mama's sake and your own," But as soon as she had muttered the words from her mouth there was a sharp kick from within her gut and a pop emitted from her stomach, as though someone had snapped a rubber band from within her belly. Her water had broken, and Lavinia could do nothing but stare at her stomach in shock.

"Isobel," She called loudly, her voice shaking with fear. "Isobel send for Doctor Clarkson,"

* * *

><p>"What do you mean she's going into labor?" Matthew's voice pleaded yet his demeanor was demanding as he stared at Molsley with sharp eyes, quite convinced that this was some sort of twisted joke. One second he had been having sandwiches with Robert in the library, looking over some charts of the estate, and the next Molsley had busted through the doors, face red from running through the cold, out of breath as he gasped out that Lavinia was having their baby. "The baby's not due for at least another two months!"<p>

"I'm sorry Mr. Crawley but I'm afraid she is. Doctor Clarkson is with her now back at Crawley house." Molsley gasped out. His lungs weren't what they used to be.

Matthew gaped at him, fully aghast as he turned back to Robert who had a fond smile on his face. "Go on then Matthew. Don't let me prevent you from witnessing the birth of your first child,"

It were as though something had snapped and the reality of the entire situation had merely escalated as Matthew sprung into action, sprinting out into the hall as Molsley helped him into his coat, not bothering to bother Carson. No words were exchanged as the two rushed down to Crawley house, completely breathless upon arriving as Isobel met them on the stairs.

"No Matthew, I need you to stay down here," Isobel said firmly to her son, whisking him back into the drawing room, his protests dying in his throat as he heard Lavinia let out a cry from above them. "There's a lot of blood and Lavinia is under a lot of pressure," Her tone was affectionate yet firm as she closed the door behind her, Matthew completely blown away at how completely together his mother was in situations like so.

"But…but the child. It's so early," Another cry of pain echoed around the house and Matthew cringed, wanting to break away from his mother, wanting to be with Lavinia when their child came into the earth.

Isobel nodded at her son's assessment, heaving a sigh. "Clarkson suspects the premature labor most likely has something to do with Lavinia's Spanish flu encounter. Sometimes the flu leaves the body, yet the infection still stays nestled in the abdomen, waiting for another ailment to lure it out,"

Seeing her son's eyes widen in terror, she quickly caught her voice. "It doesn't mean she'll catch it again. It's just reasons for the baby being so early," Matthew gave her a stiff nod, beginning to pace but stopping when he heard another shout from above.

"The baby will be…healthy though?" His voice cracked as he gazed at his mother, longing for good news, for something to ease his troubles.

"I'm not sure," Was her only response. She saw no use of keeping her son in the dark, he deserved to know straight up what could happen, however much it hurt her to see him so distressed. "If you'll excuse me I'm going to offer up my help. Please, don't stress too much dear. By the end of the day, you'll have a son or daughter," She gave him a strained smile before departing the room, leaving Matthew to return to his pacing.

* * *

><p>It was over. It was all over. Lavinia let out another cry, not from pain but merely at the prospect that she had done it. She had brought Matthew's child into the world. Sweat poured from her forehead as a nurse brought a towel to her face, clearing it of sweat and tears and everything else that had rained upon her as labor had engulfed her into a tirade of pain. The baby had been whisked away to be washed and taken care of, and yet a deep sense of accomplishment settled upon her body which was writhing with aftershocks from the pain. She pulled the blanket up to her chest and smiled into it, feeling content for the first time in many many months.<p>

"You did very well Mrs. Crawley," A nurse gave her a smile as she cleared the sheets stained with blood and sweat. "Doctor Clarkson should be bringing out your son any minute now,"

A son. She had a son. Her heart swelled with such a flow of emotions that she could barely contain as she let out a happy sob, grinning up at the ceiling. She had born Matthew's son, she was a mother, Matthew was a father, and they were husband and wife. The mere prospect of it all sent her shivering into another tirade of happiness, gripping the blankets firmly as the door opened, Matthew entering the room with a look of distant fondness.

"Oh my darling," He breathed, drawing close to her as he smoothed her hair from her forehead. She beamed up at him, caressing his cheek gently as his never wavering gaze turned into that of pure boyish joy as their _son_ was carried into the room and placed snuggly into her arms.

He was small. Smaller than any newborn that she had ever seen, yet he looked so perfect, his unblinking bright blue eyes gazing up at the two faces that stared down at him with such a look of love, such fondness that the baby must know that he was truly adored. "Arthur," Lavinia breathed, stroking her son's tiny head with her forefinger. "That will be his name,"

Matthew gave her a sad smile, kissing her cheek fondly and nodded. "I like that name,"

Both of them were completely oblivious to Doctor Clarkson's presence in the air until his voice broke the atmosphere of pleasure surrounding the tiny family. "Mr. Crawley if I might have a word with you, out in the hall?" He said it in the tone of a question, though his voice was far too demanding for Matthew to refuse. Something was wrong. Everything from Clarkson's composure to his voice screamed that something was not right.

Pulling away from his wife and son, Matthew followed the doctor into the hall, bracing himself for whatever burden was about to be placed upon him.

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><p><em>AN: SUSPENSE! Though some of you can probably already infer what the dear doctor has to say. Do tell me what you think! Your reviews help improve my writing by leaps and bounds and your constant support helps me through so much! Thanks for taking the time to read!<em>


	14. Unwell

_AN: Oh dear. Please refrain from throwing things at me, I'm sorry this is so late. Thanks for your comments on the previous chapter, it does my heart good to see so many people in one place who hate Lavinia as much as I do. This is probably the most depressing chapter yet (le sigh) so please feel free to form angry mobs and come and find me and threaten me to write something fluffy. This chapter is rated a strong T because it deals with sensitive topics that may be uncomfortable for some readers. _

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><p><em>Chapter XIV<em>

_Unwell_

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><p>"You mean it won't survive the month?" Matthew's voice was raw and shaky as he gazed into Clarkson's eyes, eyes that looked so distraught yet so sure, his voice keeping a steady composure. He was probably used to it by now, used to bearing tragedy upon unsuspecting families. How many times Clarkson had told someone they were going to die, or they would never use a certain part of their body again, or someone they loved was far from saving he could never be sure. Perhaps that was what made him the arrogant man that he was today. All the years of horrible things happening around him yet never to him had probably been the thing that made him feel immune.<p>

"I'm afraid not," Clarkson heaved a sigh and began to pack up his equipment, explaining the predicament to Matthew with a sad tone to his voice. "Around week twenty-eight, a baby begins to develop lungs before it makes its way into the world. However if it is born before the process or halfway through it, only half of its organs are developed. It appears your son is missing some vital organs. He can survive without them, but only for a brief period of time,"

Matthew stood in the hallway, absolutely stunned as he debated between the emotions that had flooded his system. Agony, despair, regret, all of these feelings took their toll on him as he gaped at the doctor, heart lurching as he thought of how pleased, how happy Lavinia had looked with Arthur in her arms. Happier than he had seen her in months. "What about Lavinia," He choked out.

"Let her have as much time with the baby that she can," Clarkson hesitated as a brief period of silence fell between them and then continued, "We won't tell her. Not yet," Matthew gave him a stiff nod as Clarkson retreated from the hall, leaving Matthew to lean against the wall and close his eyes, trying to mask all of his emotions.

So much. So much that Lavinia didn't know yet would eventually find out. It was sickening, the whole situation was sickening. Running a hand over his face he gathered what little he had left of his composure and rejoined his wife and their son who only had a number of days in their lives. He nearly cringed away when Lavinia beckoned for him to hold Arthur, but remained a steadfast forced smile as he took the child from her arms and nervously perched at the end of the bed, back turned from Lavinia as she watched him with diligent eyes.

The baby cooed up at him, it's wide unblinking eyes completely reminiscent of Matthew's own. He would have completely broken down if Lavinia had not been present. But no, he had to stay strong. For his wife's sake and frankly for himself.

"What did Clarkson have to say?" Lavinia asked softly, sitting up and positioning her back upon the pillows.

Matthew cast a glance at her out of the corner of his eye and he did something that he never in a million years thought he would do to Lavinia. He lied.

"Just some business about the birth certificate. Nothing to trouble you over," He said awkwardly, placing Arthur back in his wife's arms and rising to his feet. "I'll go have Mrs. Bird make us some tea. You look like you could use some," His voice seemed oddly removed from his body, as though he was hearing someone else speak these unemotional phrases, none of it meaning anything to him. However Lavinia appeared to be content with Matthew's proposal, giving him a quick nod as Matthew barreled out the door, hands shaking as he stood in the hall, listening to the sounds of Lavinia cooeing over their son.

How sinister he was, how unkind that he would suggest to Lavinia that Clarkson and himself were discussing a birth certificate when it might as well have been a signature of death.

* * *

><p>The shrill cry broke over the calm of the night, Lavinia Crawley's eyes jerking open with such force that she could have been merely awake the entire time, waiting for the sound of her sobbing son. Arthur seemed to break into fits of cries more often at night than most babies however when she brought the thought to Doctor Clarkson he had merely said it was nothing to worry about and had left it at that.<p>

Lavinia crawled swiftly out of bed, wrapping her night shawl closer around her as she glanced at her husband who appeared to be experiencing a plaguefull slumber, for his sleeping face was twisted into one of despair as he shuffled his position, non-existent words mumbling from his mouth. It had been three weeks since the birth of their first child, however Matthew seemed to never want to be near his son. He would rise early for work in the mornings and then lock himself in his office during the evenings, leaving Lavinia and Isobel to care for the baby by themselves.

Lavinia had expressed her concerns to her mother-in-law however Isobel had brushed it off with a sad smile and made the excuse that Matthew was very busy with work, however why wills and testimonies kept him occupied for hours on in, enough to distance himself from his son, was beyond her.

Giving Matthew one last remorseful look, she entered the hallway which welcomed her with a burst of cold air, the floor numbly stinging her feet as she crept down to the small reading room that had now become Arthur's nursery. The crying was even more shrill now that she was fully awake and her ears alert, pushing open the door and taking in the small bundle of blankets that writhed and shrieked, globs of tears running down his tiny face.

"Oh my darling," Lavinia breathed softly, taking Arthur into her arms and gently wiping the tears from his face. "What is it this time?" She couldn't understand why her son was in such a state of rage, he had been fed and nursed merely an hour before and had seemed perfectly content when Lavinia had set him to bed. However something didn't quite seem right as Arthur let out a throaty cough which sent the child into another fit of shrill cries, piercing the night with such force that Lavinia was surprised that no one else had come to see what was the matter.

"There there," Lavinia cooed, patting the baby gingerly on the back though her expression was absolutely terrified as her son let out another whooping cough, this time mucus coming from his mouth streaked with blood. "Oh my lord," She gasped out, her breath accelerating as Arthur gazed up at her with such a look of agony and despair that she practically felt her heart dissolve to shreds.

Clutching her son to her chest, she ran from the crib, hurrying down the hall to Isobel's bedroom and bursting through the door. There was no time for knocking, no time for hesitations. "Isobel!" She cried out loudly, shaking the figure urgently huddled under the sheets in the king sized bed, clutching Arthur fervently closer.

Her mother-in-law opened her eyes groggily and looked up at her in a dazed confusion. "Lavinia what on earth-"

"There's something wrong with Arthur," Lavinia sobbed out, gesturing madly towards her son who let out another heaving cough, more blood ridden mucus emitting from his tiny mouth.

Isobel seemed to spring into action, not bothering with redressing as she hurried from the room, beckoning Lavinia to follow her, who did so without hesitation, her own sobs mingled with that of her son. Matthew seemed to finally be awakened by all the madness and he stood in the hall, his hair disheveled as he pulled a robe around him, confusion swimming among his face. "What in the name of god is going on?"

"It's Arthur," Lavinia's voice cracked as she answered, her arms tightening around her son protectively, stroking his head as another cough filled the hall.

She needn't further explain. Matthew's eyes widened, his face going completely white as he stared down at his son, sharp breaths emitting from his chest as he ran a hand over his mouth. "Has anyone called Doctor Clarkson," His voice was calm, yet there was a sense of complete and utter despair behind his composure.

"He's on his way," Isobel answered from down the hall as she swiftly gathered up her graying hair and tied it in a bun upon her head, rolling up the sleeves of her nightgown as she made her way towards her son and his wife. "Lavinia if I may see the child," It was not a question, it was a command and Lavinia handed over her son without hesitation. Occupation gone from her hands, she fervently clutched to Matthew's chest, twisting her hands into his robe until they turned red from the friction.

Matthew glanced down at her with an unreadable gaze, his chest heaving up and down stiffly as he reluctantly placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, though one word came to mind, the same word that he had used at the announcement of Arthur's arrival, the same sarcastic cynical word that had plagued his mind for the past seven months, springing into action whenever things were the complete opposite of its meaning.

Fantastic.

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><p>Four hours. The minutes seemed to breeze by, hours feeling like mere seconds to Matthew yet years to Lavinia. She had not left his grasp for four hours, had not muttered a word or let out a sob, she had merely stared off into space, listening to the fading sounds of her son as she buried her face deeper in Matthew's chest.<p>

Matthew sat in stunned silence, waiting for the news that he had been bitterly anticipating for the past three weeks, regret settling amongst his composure as Lavinia shuffled closer into him. He should have told her. He should have told her everything a long time ago. But now Lavinia would have to face confrontation for the first time alone, not aware that Matthew had been dreading this day for nearly a month. And of course he had not only let down Lavinia but the very estate itself. Had Arthur been born healthy, Downton would have had its first direct air in a generation, pressure would be lifted off the young couple. But he knew it was all to be whisked away in the process of a few simple yet remorse filled words, and to think that his whole life could come collapsing upon him in a brief sentence made it all the more terrifying.

At last the door to the nursery opened, emitting a slew of nurses who avoided eye contact with the couple huddled by the wall, Doctor Clarkson following out last as he hesitantly approached Lavinia and Matthew, his expression unreadable.

He opened his mouth, as though about to say something diligent though thinking better of it. Instead he delivered the news in three small words. "I'm so sorry,"

Matthew didn't feel the weight of despair that fell upon him. He didn't feel Lavinia collapse into a bundle under his arms, her agonizing cry that pierced the early morning air as she shook violently with sobs of pain. He didn't feel his mother's comforting arm on his shoulder as she breathed words of reassurance and condolences. He didn't feel the tiny bundle that was wrapped snugly and passed into his arms.

He didn't feel anything.

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><p><em>AN: Le sigh. I feel so depressed after writing this chapter, and really guilty for burdening you with it, but it must be done for reasons that I know, and you to find out. No chapter updates tomorrow in light of the Hunger Games movieparty I will be attending, however lots of updates over the weekend and the upcoming week. Thanks for reading and tell me what you think if you have the time!_


	15. High Time

_AN: Hello my fantastic and ever so lovely readers. Sending you this chapter from a bench in my back woods today because it's so nice outside I just couldn't resist writing in the great outdoors. Lots of angst and raging passion in this chapter so dawn your helmets and prepare yourself for a bumpy ride._

_Special thanks to namelesspanda, Kavan, and luluathome for being ever so generous to me and reviewing pretty much every single chapter. Your reviews are insightful and much appreciated. _

_Now enough blubbing, onto the chapter!_

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><p><em>C<em>_hapter XV_

_High Time_

The wind was harsh and the air was cold, beating severely upon the face of a middle aged man, making his way up the garden path to Crawley house. Sir Richard Carlisle however was not fussed about the depressing weather, in fact it rather lightened his mood that his emotions were far happier than the atmosphere around him. He felt no remorse for the Crawley's dead son, however he had come to offer condolences and to quite frankly sneer in the face of Lavinia. She had been so fixed on the fact that the baby would fix the marriage, that everything Carlisle suggested to mend it was wrong, that a son would tie everything together.

How wrong she was, for what Richard had observed from a distance it merely darkened Matthew and Lavinia's entire relationship.

Raising a calloused fist to the door, he gave it a swift yet heavy knock, knowing that no servants would answer for it was a Sunday. He stood back with a dry smirk as he heard a shuffling on the other side of the wooden hinge. There was a brief hesitation before the door opened a crack and the porcelain face of Lavinia Crawley peered through the door.

"Go away," She hissed, though she made no movement to close the door. He knew she wouldn't.

He pulled off his hat with ungenuine dignity and gave Lavinia the most somber smile he could muster. "I've come to offer my sympathies. It's always a great loss when children die,"

Lavinia stared at him in surprised, yet wore a mask of complete lack of expression. This amused him however and he let out a low chuckle. "Are you afraid of me Mrs. Crawley?" His voice was icy yet full of amusement. "It's ever so chilly out here and I would appreciate it dearly if you let me into your humble abode,"

She swallowed and glanced fervently over her shoulder before opening the door and emitting Carlisle, who stepped over the threshold with good grace, lowering his hat to the table next to him. "Thank you kindly,"

She glared at him yet did not give him the satisfaction of speech, instead lowering her eyes to the floor, allowing Richard to observe her better. She looked dreadful, her face sunken and shallow, eyes that once shown with glints of green were now completely gray. She was still dawned in a nightgown, a thin robe tied carelessly around her waist, her gold hair falling over her shoulders, vibrancy completely deprived of the colour.

"You don't appear to be in…good health," Carlise's voice wavered between an assessment and amusement, trying to keep them separate yet doing so poorly for she once again cast a glare of the man who had nearly caused her father bankruptcy.

He sighed at her lack of response and took matters into his own hands. "Shall we carry on this conversation in the drawing room?" He waited for no answer and pushed past her, entering the tiny room and placing himself decadently on a sofa. She followed quietly behind him, taking her place next to him yet scooting to the farthest side of the seat.

"Such a tragedy," He sighed lowly, running a hand through his hair. "I do hope you know how truly sorry I am," He gave her a fake smile and she responded with a tense nod, choosing to look away as he drew closer to her.

"And right at the beginning too. Matthew seemed to finally be settling in…" His voice trailed off as he rested a hand upon her leg. She looked terrified yet made no move to remove it. He leaned in, very close to her ear now. "If there is anything I can possibly do to help, please make it known," He whispered, giving her leg another stroke. He had not been intimate with a woman for a long time. Mary seemed to never want to make love with him, no matter how hard he hinted at it, and it was quite frankly leaving him deprived.

Her voice was low and croaky as she answered, shaky from lack of use. "I think it is time for you to leave Sir Richard," He strained his ears and bended lower to hear her properly.

"What was that?"

Lavinia seemed to gather her composure at last and pushed his hand from her leg, standing up in the heat of emotion and pointing strongly towards the door. "I said, I think it's time for you to leave," He teeth her grinding together, eyes looking completely deranged.

He hesitated, only briefly, before giving her a nod. "If that is what you so choose," He left the house quickly, but not fast enough to escape the sound of soft cries emitting from the drawing room.

* * *

><p>Dinner at Downton had become rather a tedious affair for Matthew, and he dreaded every Thursday when he and Lavinia were summoned like dogs up for the meal. No matter how much his family avoided the subject, no matter how many quails were eaten, how many cobblers consumed, despite the lavish wine and refreshing deserts they enjoyed, the lingering feeling of despair was spread throughout the house. Of course everyone offered their condolences, of course they expressed how sorry they were and how awful the whole matter was, yet there was one emotion that lingered upon everyone's faces, no matter what course was placed before them. Disappointment.<p>

It writhed through their bodies and only shown upon their faces when no other fake emotion of interest could consume them. It made Matthew glare at anyone who dare look upon them with pity. They did not need pity or sympathy or any depressing emotion of the sort. They had not lived through what Matthew had seen in the past few months, had not experienced his crumbling relationship, the despairing thought that he never truly loved his son, the mere fact that Lavinia had succumbed to a deep depression, never choosing to rise from the brink of it.

They had no idea what thoughts plagued his mind each day, nor did he want them to know. He deserved their pity, and their remorse, however much he despised it. He deserved to suffer.

Dinner that day up at the big house had been dreary as usual, the affair not even casting a reflection of what things used to be like, how merely five years ago he had looked forward to these occasions. How things had so bitterly changed. When he could no longer stand the atmosphere, he rose to his feet in silence, giving a stiff nod to Lavinia as they both brushed out the drawing room door into the hall outside. He had nearly left, Lavinia in tow, without breathing a single word to anyone during the dinner when a slight tug alerted him otherwise. "Matthew," Her voice was soft and he nearly fell to pieces when he caught sight of the look on her face. Mary looked distraught as she gazed up at him curiously, her eyes moving over his face, completely ignoring the fact that Lavinia was clinging diligently to his arm. "Can I talk to you?"

Lavinia shot her a look, a desolate and withering look, yet hesitantly released her grasp from Matthew's arm, gazing up at him with aptitude. "I'll wait in the motor," She grimaced sadly and proceeded down the corridor leaving Matthew to gape after her.

They stood in silence as Mary continued to study him, making him feel uncomfortable under her diligent gaze. Finally she spoke, her voice calm as she took his hand, yet holding it at a distance, a mere friendly gesture more than a romantic advance. "Are you alright?"

He pursed his lips and stared down at her, his throat dry as he tried to swallow yet making no progress. He finally cracked. "No," He breathed, his eyes closing as he emitted a sigh. "No I'm not,"

She nodded, having the good enough grace to blush that she had asked such an obvious question. "If there's anything I can do to help…"

Matthew cut across her, his voice so sharp that she nearly recoiled. "I have to tell her Mary. It's time. High time."

She gazed at the floor, giving his hand another timid squeeze in response before letting it fall as she released her grasp. She did not speak, did not utter a single sound as she merely gave him a sad smile and turned from him, retreating back to the sanctuary of the drawing room.

It was high time.

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><p>His feet were cold, yet he found it fitting. Everything else in him seemed to be frozen lately, why shouldn't the very things that supported his lifeless body freeze as well. "Lavinia," His voice was chilly as well, bitterly bouncing around the walls of Crawley house upon his arrival from work in Ripon.<p>

There was a slight shuffling from up the stairs. Of course she wouldn't come to meet him. All of that had stopped along time ago. Hoisting his briefcase to his hip, he climbed the stairs yet with each step it felt as though he were drawing closer to an impending doom. And in a way he was. Telling Lavinia about his affair with Mary would send everything crashing, spiral everything into a whirlwind of chaos. Of course adultery was not a reason for divorce, not for women at least, however it would be the pure moment that all the decency and self respect he had seemed to masquerade with would come screeching to a halt. It was all too surreal.

"Lavinia," He called out again when he reached the hall. There was no room for false words such as darling or dear, all of that had died along with Arthur.

"In the bedroom," Was her only response, and a diligent sigh rose to his lips as he realized she was probably still in bed. The only time she ever seemed to look presentable these days were for the desolate dinners at Downton, and even then she seemed unkempt and not all there. Upon entering he found his assessment to be proven and she lay curled in a bundle of sheets, staring wistfully out the widow, not bothering to pass a glance at Matthew upon his arrival.

"Hello," He said softly, sitting briskly next to her yet not bothering to comfort her with a touch or even a glance. There was no need to place her in false hope and then merely shatter it all around her only a few minutes later.

She did not acknowledge his welcome, instead choosing to shift slightly under the silk sheets and bury her head deeply in the pillows. His voice cracked as he tried a form of pleasantries. "Did you have a nice nap,"

"Yes," Was her only response. Abandoning her innocent demeanor, Lavinia pressed on. "What is it Matthew?" Her voice was cold and calculating, though it usually was these days.

His lips parted as he looked away, Lavinia bringing a cold hand to his cheek as she turned his head towards her. "Tell me," Her voice was soft, yet burned through his chest as he rolled off the bed, his arms shaking slightly as he gathered his composure.

He might as well get to the point instead of continuing to drag it out. "Lavinia, I…I have not been faithful to you," There. He had said it. Yet no burden was relished, no heavy weight was lifted from his shoulders, quite the contrary; he felt even more desolate if it could be vaguely possible.

However comprehension was not one of Lavinia's strong suits and she merely stared at him, her eyes wide as she tried to understand the meaning of his words, yet her lack of nutrition caused her head to become fuzzy. "What?"

He wanted to scream, to shout, to release all of his anger and frustration, to throw things and break things and rip things. Yet he was stuck in his bedroom, perched over the bed where he had made love to his wife on countless occasions, only to tell her he had shared his love with another woman. It was sickeningly ironic.

"Mary," He whispered, her name dancing off his lips, said for the first time with a bitter ring. "I've made love to Mary," His composure was startlingly calm, and he was surprised he wasn't shouting, surprised he hadn't collapsed into a heap onto the bed. Yet war had taught him to wear a mask, even in signs of great danger, and so expressionless he remained, though his voice cracked and wavered, and betrayed his true feelings.

Lavinia gaped at him in horror, a slight tear trickling down her gaunt face as everything crashed upon her in a wave of fury. "You've…you've not been faithful?" Her voice was ridden with disbelief, and she shook violently, grasping the sheets around her so tightly that her hands turned red, her veins becoming more prominent with every tremor of her body. "You've made love to Mary? While we were married?"

He swallowed, his throat tightening as he began to shake as well. "Yes," He finally gasped, his jaw clenching as he leaned up against the wall behind him.

It came in a burst of agony, first a flow of tears and then a somber wail, Lavinia writhing as she finally was consumed into a state of emotional collapse, her body shaking with every burst of emotion, her sobs only mingled with dry words of why, how, and where. Her forcefull whimpers were so frequent that she began to cough from lack of air, pausing briefly to take a gulp of oxygen before conforming into a fit of cries.

And Matthew stood by the wall, watching as his wife cursed at him, delving into a state of despair as she cried out his name in remorse. And he did nothing.


	16. Clash and Recoil

_AN: Thanks everyone for your lovely reviews (and patience)!_

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><p><em>Chapter XVI<em>

_Clash and Recoil_

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><p>"No no no, I want those beds made up over there," Doctor Clarkson's voice boomed heavily around the tiny hospital, sending the patients to cringe under his unorthodox tone. Isobel noticed he was being particularly controlling that day, and she pursed her lips as he barked at yet another poor nurse, sending her to scuffle form the room in a mad haze of blushing.<p>

"I gather Lavinia came to see you today," Isobel called to the Doctor, trying to make aimless conversation as to prevent another poor nurse from becoming the victim of his foul mood.

Clarkson glanced up and raised an eyebrow, striding along the rows of cots before making it to the patient Isobel was tending.

"She did," His voice was uncharacteristically stiff and Isobel glanced fervently up at the Doctor, who seemed thoroughly uncomfortable with the entire situation.

"Well what for?" She asked briskly, wiping her dirt ridden hands on a ragged cloth before gazing persistently at Clarkson.

He seemed to hesitate slightly, looking down at the patient below them and then back to Isobel. "Perhaps we should take this conversation into my office,"

Isobel was momentarily taken aback, but quickly gathered her wavering composure and followed the aging Doctor through the winding halls of the hospital, down to the second floor corridor where he swiftly held the office door open to her. She stepped into the room, whiffing the familiar smell of medicine and cigarettes, a scent that seemed to be lingering a lot around Clarkson these days.

"Take a seat Mrs. Crawley," The Doctor motioned her towards a chair in front of his desk before taking place in his own, shuffling some papers among his desk and then emitting a loud sigh. "So I take it she hasn't told you?"

Isobel quirked an eyeball. She had merely brought up the subject of Lavinia visiting the hospital early that morning as a conversation starter, thinking the poor girl had gone to see if there was something to do about the migraines she had been so feverishly having. "No. No she hasn't told me,"

Clarkson gave her a stiff nod, hesitation passing over his face before he spoke, "It appears that Mrs. Crawley is infertile,"

Isobel gaped at the Doctor, confusion clearly plastered amongst her features as she struggled to find words, to contradict Clarkson's mindless statement. At last, words graced her mouth. "Impossible. She…had Arthur did she not?"

Dr. Clarkson shook his head sadly, leaning back in his chair and pulling out a pen which he twiddled nervously in his fingers. "Yes but the baby was born premature. When Mrs. Crawley caught the spanish flu several years ago, I believe the infection damaged some of the organs that are vital to…well, producing life. Of course she can conceive, the baby will just be born with-problems,"

Isobel's eyes widened, her throat becoming unnaturally dry as comprehension dawned upon her.

* * *

><p>Matthew's breath was shallow as he traced the bedroom door hinge briefly with his fingers, feeling the rough wood beneath his grasp as he gazed longingly into the room, his breath catching as he saw the broken figure before him. She sat perched on a chair facing the window, her long dry hair laying in clumps around her shoulders, eyes glazed yet unwavering as she stared out upon the gardens below her, body not moving an inch as she felt him approach.<p>

He reached out his hand, as if to make a move to touch her, but thought better of it and changed his action mid course to a strange muffled cough. She flinched, but did not turn to greet him.

"Lavinia," He breathed smoothly, standing awkwardly behind her chair, staring at the back of her head. "We need to talk darling," The phrase was forced, lacking emotion if it had any to spare at all. Somewhere, deep down, he knew that he loved her. It may have been just a tiny thread that some would say was a miserable excuse to call affection, but he did. And he knew she used to feel the same.

"What left is there to say?" Her voice was strong, stronger than he anticipated it to be and he inwardly shuttered as she reached back and took his hand, stroking it softly, her eyes not losing a wink.

Matthew stared down at where their hands touched, transfixed that such a simple gesture could send him into a tidal wave of grief, but with a slight jerk of his arm, his trance fled his body. "I think," His voice wavered, causing Lavinia to at last stare back at him with a burning gaze, "We shouldn't do anything…rash,"

There was a long silence between the two, in which Lavinia pursed her chapped lips diligently before finally speaking, "What do you mean?" She knew exactly what he meant, she just wanted to hear the direct words flow from his own mouth instead of mindless inferring.

He sighed, taking a few steps backward and crashing to the bed, head racing as he stared back to Lavinia who was watching him with a determined gaze. "Let's not jump into things we don't have to. Not yet at least,"

It was almost as though something had snapped in Lavinia, and she rose to her feet, sending the blankets that had bathed her in wool slamming to the ground. "I see." She hissed, her body shaking in suppressed emotion. "You want to let things die down, wait until I'm 'better' and then see where our relationship goes from there?" Lavinia's bitter tone was what left Matthew stunned, not the words she was speaking. "You're confusing me Matthew. Don't you want me out of your life? Do you not want to go back to Mary, completely free of anything tying you down? Don't you regret this whole marriage?" Her voice was starting to sound hysterical, and she broke into a fit of tears as she collapsed to the chair, burying her head in the blankets she had deprived herself of as Matthew watched on in shock. "Because I don't," A muffled statement that fled through the air, hitting Matthew like a ton of bricks. She regretted nothing, and yet he so much.

Hadn't she just confirmed the things he'd always wanted, at least for the past few months? To be free of Lavinia, free of the marriage, to forget about everything unpleasant that had gone on under the roof they shared. To indulge with Mary with no regrets, at least not on his part. Wasn't it what he had been trying to achieve all this time?

Then why was he feeling the compelling need to stay with her, to not divorce or cause her any harm whatsoever? Out of guilt? Spite? Pride? Or was it the mere fact that there was still a small flame inside his chest that begged to be ignited.

On trembling feet he moved towards his wife, guilt propelling his body towards her as he wrapped his arms around her, breathing sweet phrases into her ear, kissing tears away from her cheeks and smoothing her tangled hair. "We don't have to talk about it now," He breathed against her cheek, and she shivered as she recoiled from his words.

She was not comforted.

* * *

><p>Lavinia wanted to cower, she wanted to hide. Wasn't she known for shying away, for retreating when dismissed, for shielding herself away from the less pleasant side of things? Her mind begged her to run, her heart begged her to run, and most of all every single emotion concerning Matthew pleaded with her to cower. Yet her feet remained stationary, as though permanently glued to the front steps of Haxby Park, her heart pounding as she raised a fleeting hand to the door and knocked thrice, trying to drown out the sound of her pounding heart. She had watched Mary leave that morning, knowing quite well that a day trip into Ripon with her mama would keep her occupied for hours.<p>

And a few hours was all she needed.

Emotions beyond her control had been plaguing her for the past week, words and sounds ringing through her ears of Matthew's confession, of the post regret he had expressed yet not felt, of the dead silence at night as Lavinia once again spent her sleep alone, Matthew retreating to his dressing room. It was torturous, and early that morning the feeling grew. It were as though she was being led by some invisible force to Haxby, to Sir Richard. The lingering feeling of his hand upon her leg, the look he gave her as he licked his lips, watching her with every move. She had to admit it was quite exhilarating, even if it wasn't entirely intentional (though a small voice told her that it was).

She wanted nothing more than to be desired, to be touched and caressed with passion. There had been no lovemaking between Matthew and her ever since the news of her infertility came to grasps. She found there was no need. The love between them was strained, almost entirely snuffed out, why make something that you didn't want to? Yet she cringed from it, suffering from withdrawals, a memory of a touch, a whispered word that sent her chest tingling. No it was something she hadn't experienced for quite some time, and even if it was only tea with Sir Richard that caused what she longed for, she would take it without the slightest hesitation.

* * *

><p>"Lavinia, what a-pleasant surprise," Sir Richard glanced up from his desk as the young girl entered, a smirk daring to cross his lips as he gazed at her enticingly. He knew she would come. Once he had imprinted upon someone, whether it be a business associate or a woman, they always did what he want in the end. "I'm afraid you've just missed tea, however I can get Folsom to draw you up a cup," He gave the butler a swift nod who departed the room in a flurry.<p>

"Thank you," Her voice was soft, nearly a whisper as she cautiously took a seat in front of his desk, gazing around at the large study before confronting the man before her. "I know I shouldn't be here-"

She was cut off promptly by Sir Richard who raised a steady hand to silence her and gave a slight tilt of the head in her direction. "There is no need for explanation. I'm sure you get…rather lonely," There was a slight edge to his voice that hinted something more, however the girl seemed to look past it and simply gave him a small smile, accepting the cup of tea that Folsom diligently handed her.

A silence was clasped firmly between the two as Richard watched her with an unwavering gaze as she sipped her tea, shuffling uncomfortably under his gaze as it swept freely over her body. Yes, he knew why she was here.

"I take it your husband's well,"

Lavinia's face nearly bore the slightest trace of emotion before she concealed it quickly, placing the cup on the desk before her. "Yes. He is," She did not furtherly elaborate yet she did not need to. Clearly Crawley was not proving to be the exceptional husband everyone made out he was. Why else would she be here?

He rose calmly to his feet, hands behind his back as he crossed around the desk, leaning against it as Lavinia glanced up at him, blinking innocently as he stared down at her.

"I see," Was his only response. He drew slightly closer, but only slightly. Yes, he would prefer the whole experience to be long. Long and drawn out.

"Sir Richard-" Lavinia began, however she was once more cut off by the man as he placed a hand on her arm and gazed into her eyes, fingering her sleeve carelessly as she let out a soft gasp. It was not for comforting, it was not loving, it was lustful and Lavinia shivered as his fingers danced upon her skin.

"You and I both know why you're here," His voice was soft yet assertive, and a hint of something more, something sinister, plagued the tone, causing Lavinia once again to shutter in fear, and in yearning, and almost a sharp sense of vengeance. This was her revenge towards Matthew, however much it hurt to think of, to lust for. He had taken Mary into his bed, why shouldn't she do the same with Sir Richard?

Of course she knew it was wrong, physically and morally, but morals had been lost to Lavinia a long time ago, a now she felt nothing but emptiness.

* * *

><p>They lay in a heap on the floor, sharp breaths intermingling with each other as Lavinia gazed up at the ceiling, eyes squinting as she struggled to keep them open, her mind and body exhausted from the activity that had just taken place. She cringed slightly as Sir Richard gave a small stroke up her leg, but did not move his hand away, however much her subconscious screamed for it all to cease.<p>

Yet there was no feeling of satisfaction, no impending glory that she had beaten Matthew to the kill, taken matters into her own hands.

They did not speak, yet there was no need for words, no need to express the deep sense of confusion and helplessness that had graced both of their faces. She thought that Sir Richard would be more spiteful, more triumphant as well, now that he had seemed to completely corrupt her. Not only had he stolen her innocence, but he had turned her nearly against the very man that she used to be willing to die for.

And then it dawned on her. He didn't know.

Sir Richard did not know about his wife's affair, or the inner turmoil that had wrecked havoc in Lavinia's scattered mind, or her true motives for practically begging Sir Richard to relive her of it all. He had positively no idea. And she wanted to tell him, to drag someone else into her world of hurt so that she was not alone, so that someone suffered through it with her.

For once in her life, Lavinia wanted to bring displeasure to another person.

She rolled over on her side, wetting her dry mouth as she struggled to find the right words to crash upon Sir Richard's tiny bubble of self worth. "I think perhaps there is something I need to shed light upon,"

* * *

><p><em>AN: I decided to keep the ending scene short and simple simply because what Sir Richard and Lavinia have become through the course of this turmoil that they've both struggled with is often to ghastly to give them a proper love scene. I myself did not feel compelled to showcase their caresses and kisses, so I had the slightest inkling you wouldn't either. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter as it oddly gives me satisfaction to see them so absolutely dismal. <em>


	17. Exiled

_AN: Thanks everyone so much for your patience with this story! I've been trying to get a chapter up every day but it's just not happening. I'm sure most of you can relate._

_This chapter is a little on the violent side and deals with a sensitive topic. Reader discretion is advised. _

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><p><em>Chapter XVII<em>

_Exiled_

* * *

><p>Her heart raced with adrenaline, a surging rush of heat that she had never experienced before in her life. Oh how she despised herself, what a hypocrite she had thus proven to be. Lavinia collapsed into the door frame of Crawley house, body tingling as comprehension passed over her face, realizing for the first time what a horrible thing she had done. What in God's name was she trying to accomplish? Make other's lives a living hell such as her own?<p>

She never used to be that way, never used to cause pain and anguish. Yet all that had changed when she married Matthew, and it seemed that she merely existed simply to please herself. It disgusted her. She had accomplished nothing by begging Sir Richard to take her into his bed, infact she cringed at the mere memory. Tainted. Stained. Words of ruin rushed through her mind as she sank to the floor, curling in a ball as she leaned her head against the wall behind her. She was thankful that there was no one at home but the servants, glad that no one would whitness her so vulnerable.

She wanted to tear at her clothes, at her hair, at her skin. Scream against a wall and then run, run as fast as she could to get anywhere, to do anything. She wanted to hit and throw and jump and yell and do anything but be trapped in her bubble of anguish, growing bigger with every transgression she committed against herself. Her fury fueled her depression until it was so overbearing that it had flushed out all emotion, leaving her completely empty. She couldn't remember the last time she felt a true emotion.

Perhaps she could simply disappear, make everyone's lives a better place without her. Surely her absence would suffice? Yet even then she realized how selfish she was; going away to rid everyone of her were not her true motives. She simply wanted to disappear for the sake of herself.

* * *

><p>"How dare you," The words were venom, thrashing about Mary's demeanor as she leaned back against the bookshelf in her husband's study, her heart throbbing, not from fear, but from the mere exhilaration of what had been found out, what was going on before her. Upon her arrival from Ripon she had found her husband in a tyranny sort of mood and he finally snapped during dinner that evening, screaming and shouting of her transgressions in front of the entire dinner staff, thus provoking Mary to suggest that they kindly take the conversation into his study.<p>

He had begrudgingly relented, though his harsh mumbles of skank, slut, and betrayer were still uttered under his wine ridden breath as he lead her into the large room. She shivered unconditionally as he pulled a shelf of books from the ledge and sent them smashing over the ground, papers of century old writings tearing to a crisp. Mary had never seen Sir Richard in such a rage, of course she almost knew he had the proper right to be. He had merely found out that his wife had laid with another man, a man who he had been quite frankly trying to prevent from coming into any sort of contact with her. Yet a small thread tugged at the back of her mind; how did he find out? Surely Matthew had not relented in telling him, he of all people, would know how much pain she would go through if Sir Richard ever found out.

But she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to endure another thrashing for her outspokenness.

"I marry you, I keep your sinful scandal at bay, I please you with one of the finest houses in the land, and yet you still go against my will, you still remain a slut as you always were. I should have realized your true motives from the beginning," Her heart pounded as for the third time in her life she was called that disgusting word; slut. Was she? She had slept with three men in her lifetime, only one of which she was married to. One she had loved, one she couldn't stand, and the other for mere excitement. Did her actions define her as one, or was she merely a lost soul? Perhaps she was both, her mother had claimed that she was indeed "damaged goods". Well now she was broken.

"What do you have to say for yourself? Do you have any useless definition to clear your conscious?" He was shaking with rage now, body quivering as he struggled to contain himself. He wanted to slap her, he wanted to hurt her, but with a steady force, he kept his hands to himself.

She glanced up at him, her eyes dark and full of rage and something else. Something that appeared to be remorse but he knew her so well he didn't second guess it. "I have none," The words echoed around the room, leaving them both to writhe in their drawn out silence, one feeling slightly hypocritical, the other feeling nothing but regret, not for transgressions against her spouse but for the mere action of marrying him and putting him through pounds of anguish.

Sir Richard pushed the great barrier of silence as he relented on, building off pure anguish and anxiety as his voice rose higher, temper flaring as he flew off the handle at his wife. After everything, every sin she had committed, every angry curse and swollen tear she had forced him to shed, she had absolutely no excuse. Absolutely nothing to define her actions. And it was revenge, not anger, that drew him to strike.

The hand slapped across her face, the sheer force of large fingers and nails breaking the skin on her porcelain cheek as a trickle of blood fell down Mary's jaw, her lips trembling as burning tears of pain graced her eyes. Never, never in a thousand lifetimes would she have thought him to strike her. She had quite frankly never thought she would ever be stricken by any man for that matter, but now that she was confronted with the situation, desolation crept over her body as she glared up at Sir Richard through burning tears.

His jaw was clenched as he glared down at her, chest rising and falling in great gasps as he collapsed into the chair behind him, burying his head in his hands and letting out a low moan. At last he spoke, voice low and full of anguish as the low hum broke their desolate silence. "We are not happy Mary,"

Mary blinked back tears as she gaped at him in surprise, remorseful that he could speak so calmly after such an atrocious act. She said nothing as he gave her another glare, leaning back with another sigh. "I loved you," He stressed the past tense, though he needn't make it so obvious. Any man that cared to hurt her most certainly did not spare her affection.

And so she kept her mouth shut, even though she knew he wanted a response along the same lines as his own. When she did not relent, he rose to his feet and strode towards her quickly, barely giving her anytime to cringe in his wakening. He reached slowly and caressed slowly the cheek he had stricken, red and swollen now with small amounts of blood littering the surface, his wine stained breath trickling he neck as she shivered under his touch. "And what do you propose we do now?" He said quietly, pulling away from her as she inwardly shuttered.

A thought hit her, harder than Sir Richard's blow and caused twice the amount of pain. It was a ghastly thought, a terrorizing thought, one that she knew she would regret for years to come if she carried through with it. One that he would make her regret for certain.

But she knew what must be done.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I realize this chapter is slightly on the shorter side but I think that if I shoved it all into one long chapter the impact would be hard to grasp. I'd love to hear your predictions since this story will be coming to a close in three chapters (and perhaps an epilogue). Thanks for taking the time to read!<em>


	18. The Art of Extinguishing

_AN: Oh dear, you must all bitterly despise me by now. I am a billion times sorry about not posting but the site has not been working for me. Thankfully, if you're reading this my post has been successful. Thanks to all your lovely reviews!_

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><p><em>Chapter XVIII<em>

_The Art of Extinguishing_

* * *

><p>"Did you hear the Smeltings will be able to keep their farm?"<p>

"How splendid, they'll need all the investments they can get if they want a happy retirement,"

The dreary dinner conversation did nothing but lengthen Matthew's bitter mood even more as he stirred his untouched stu, eyes glazing over the dinner occupants at the long and cheerful atmospheric table. His wife was seated next to him, her eyes glazed and food also untouched, as though she were in another world entirely her own. She barely talked these days, and sickeningly Matthew much preferred the quiet remorseful Lavinia who stayed out of his way and did nothing to worsen his mood. They hadn't exchanged conversation all day and Matthew couldn't remember the last time they had shared a room together.

"Matthew," Lord Grantham quipped up, startling him a bit as the conversation focused towards him. "How's the law firm going? Sorted everything out with that nasty client of yours,"

Matthew absentmindedly informed Robert of all his dull and tiresome work at Harvlyn Carter, eyes unknowingly flashing to Mary who sat seated across from him, taking a small sip of whine, her husband nowhere in sight which quite frankly rather pleased Matthew. The conversation had just turned to the function of automobiles when a sharp ring of Mary's spoon on her glass turned everyone's attention.

"Mary," Her mother hissed, leaning forward and placing a hand on her lap. "Don't bang the silverware,"

"I'm sorry mama, but you all seem rather absorbed," Her eyes flashed dangerously around the table, leaving Matthew to wonder why she was in such a foul mood.

"You see," Mary spoke loudly, yet her dignity stayed in tack, "I have an announcement to make. A rather unpleasant one at that," She let out a sigh before her sharp words tumbled out of her. "Sir Richard and I are getting a divorce,"

No one breathed a word as all eyes focused on Mary, eyebrows raised, mouths agape. It were as though someone had popped the bubble of pure calamity and all that was left was shock.

Seeing no one was responding, Mary continued. "We've already filed for one at the law firm in Ripon, so there's no going back." She paused, waiting for some sign of acknowledgement however the only thing that graced her words was silence. "I've decided to move to America, maybe only for a year or two, and stay with Grandmama."

At last, it was Robert who broke the ice. "This is preposterous! You can't divorce! Do you know how much this family will be scorned!"

Mary jumped, yet she seemed to have been expecting it for she simply took a sip from her wine and stated, "Well I am,"

Cora shot a look at her husband before saying softly, "Darling I think what your papa means to say is that perhaps you are over reacting."

"No, we're not," Mary shot back, her jaw clenching as she unknowingly spilled some wine upon the sheer white table cloth. "We have our reasons, none of which I'd like to discuss here," For the smallest second, Matthew thought Mary caught his eyes, but it was over in a flash leaving Matthew to believe he simply imagined it.

Despite everyone's shock at the ordeal, despite how utterly improper it was for Mary to do so, Matthew's chest swelled with relief at the news. For far too long, Mary had been tormented by that ghastly man and to hear that they would no longer share a home together left Matthew feeling as though he could breathe again. Of course there was the lingering thought that the reason for divorce was in fact the affair, but how could Richard possibly know? He certainly didn't tell him, and he was quite confident Mary didn't either.

And so he convinced himself that it must be another contributing factor, completely oblivious to the white faced tear ridden Lavinia seated next to him.

* * *

><p>She had done it again. She had ruined another person's life. It seemed to be the only thing she was capable of these days and she had fully mastered it. First she had bound Matthew to a fully condemned loveless marriage, then because of her infectious tainted body, her only child had died, not even a month old. And now this, whether it was the conclusion of sleeping with Richard or informing him that Mary and Matthew had done the same, she didn't know. Nor did she care.<p>

She found herself caring about less and less and as her body deteriorated from lack of food and sleep, so did her mere existence.

She knew that she was half past dead, and there was no one to save her.

* * *

><p>"Mary!" Her name was called across the hall. She recognized the voice, and the pure aura of Matthew in her presence. She wanted to bask in his voice and the feel of him for a little longer, but with him vastly approaching on quick footsteps, her indulgement was abruptly cut off.<p>

"I didn't expect to see you here," His face was emotionless yet she could sense the pity from his voice. And pity was what she hated.

"Yes well, I'm going to ask Papa for my birth certificate. They need it…for the divorce," Her voice darkened as she absentmindedly fidgeted with the hem of her dress.

Matthew closed his eyes and emitted a sigh before gently tugging Mary's arm and pulling her into a corner of the hall, out of sight and hearing of any onlookers. "The divorce…it isn't because of us is it?"

She wanted to say no, she wanted to say it was all Richard's fault, that he was the reason of her unhappiness. But she never lied to Matthew. "Yes," She breathed softly, not relenting as Matthew stroked her hair comfortingly as she collapsed against his shoulder. "He's found out,"

"But how?" He asked aghast, staring down at her for some sign of revilement. "You didn't tell him did you?"

She pulled back and glared at him. "Of course not," Her voice cracking, eyes red and lips swollen from tears. "And I assume you didn't?"

He shook his head briefly before comprehension dawned upon him. Of course. The only other person who knew. The name barely formed on his lips, full of remorse and betrayal and a dark deep sense that he knew it had been her all along. "It was Lavinia,"

* * *

><p>"Lavinia dear, are you sure you don't want anything to eat? I can have Mrs. Bird make you a sandwich, you haven't had a bite all day," Isobel's voice wavered through Crawley house, drifting up to Lavinia's bedroom as she sat up straighter in her midst of sheets.<p>

"No thank you," She called back down. There was a long pause where she knew her mother-in-law was contemplating force feeding her, but she soon relented and the sound of descending steps were soon followed by quiet.

She knew this was her last ditch effort, the one chance to try and feel something, anything. With Mary nearly unmarried she had a small feeling that Matthew would relay to her, to provide comfort in more ways than one. She needed to feel Matthew's body for reassurance, some proof that her entire ordeal was not a nightmare. She needed to feel _something._

Within pure minutes, the sound of someone entering through the front door was heard through the floorboards, followed by Isobel's brief exclamation upon seeing her son, and then the creaking of the rough wood as someone ascended the stairs. She readied herself, leaning against the baseboard, wearing nothing but a sheer nightgown and her diminished confidence. The door opened and Matthew silently entered the room, pausing slightly as he saw the position Lavinia was in.

"Lavinia no. Not tonight," He sounded frayed and older than she had ever heard him, as though he had aged fifty years in the course of the day.

"Why not?" She didn't mean to sound as though she were whining but with every word she resembled more and more a toddler begging for a treat. "We've not slept together for months,"

Matthew sat on the edge of the bed, absentmindedly removing his shoes, muddied and dirty from the rain outside. She watched his back, lips parted, nearly confident that she had gotten her way. But the next words he breathed shot down her dignity, making her want to recoil and shrivel into nothing.

"You told him didn't you," It was a small phrase, an innocent set of words yet he could have shot her. So he knew. He knew what a demon she had become. Whether he knew of her dealings with Carlisle she wasn't sure, but he knew about everything else.

He did not say anything else as he sat up and departed the room, slamming the door behind him.


	19. The Sound of Silence

_AN: Happy Belated Easter everyone! Thank you all to your lovely reviews to the last chapter, and special thanks to namelesspanda whose endless support I could never do without. This is the next to last chapter (if you don't count the epilogue) so it's going to be long and packed with climaxes! One of the scenes is slightly reminiscent to what actually happens in canon, though I think it just couldn't have gone about any other way. And lastly, this chapter is rated a strong strong strong T. It deals with some very violent and sensitive issues that may be uncomfortable for some readers. **Discretion is advised. **_

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><p><em>Chapter XIX<em>

_The Sound of Silence_

* * *

><p>"What is it?"<p>

Matthew glanced up at his wife, sun gleaming in his eyes as he anticipated some sort of pleased expression upon Lavinia's face, something that told him his new gift to her had brought her spirits up a tiny fraction of an inch. He was sorely disappointed. Instead of any form of glee, her expression was drowned out with pure revulsion, as though the object that stood before them only furtherly dragged her back into the abyss of her depression.

Matthew cleared his throat as he leaned against the dark blue car, resting a protective hand upon it's windshield. "It's a revere five passenger touring automobile," He said diligently, quoting the plumb salesman he had met in Ripon when he had purchased the motor. "I thought maybe we could go for a drive," It really all was quite pathetic, using a motor as some sort of last ditch effort in his marriage, but Lavinia had looked so utterly dismal the past few months and a tiny voice in his head told him it was his fault. Just because he didn't truly love her as he used to didn't mean he couldn't give her some sort of happiness.

Lavinia looked at him, her cracked lips parted and small eyes glaring before she turned and quietly re-entered the house, slamming the door behind her. Sighing, Matthew pulled off his cap and closed his eyes, letting the heat of the sun absorb him as he tried to collect his composure. How torturous his life was becoming. He had spent his two months worth of salary on an object that frankly he didn't want only to make his wife happy, but to find her so utterly unappreciative was like a blow to the head. They could never be happy, no matter how many materialistic things they bought each other, no matter how many false moans of pleasure were shared in the heat of night, no matter how many times they breathed artificially through their lips of their love.

Yanking open the car door he threw himself into the driver's seat, tugging on his cap forcefully as he started the engine. He had driven a few times in Manchester, it was required at his university to know at least something of the new modern brainwave, and the feel of the wheel beneath his hands was somewhat comforting as he steered himself away from his home. If he closed his eyes he could nearly forget everything, forget that he had ever come to Downton, ever become the future heir, ever met the people he did, share the love he had. He often wondered how entirely different his life would have been had he stayed in Manchester. Would he be married, with children and the lot? Perhaps he would be happier, with no thoughts of Lavinia or his dead son or secret affairs. But he could never rid his mind of Mary. Not ever. It were as though she were something latched to skin, he could remove it for a day or two at a time, but it would eventually always grow back.

People gazed curiously at him as he drove through the tiny village square, wondering why the future heir was not using a chauffer. He paid them no attention whatsoever and maimed all his attention towards the road, pressing the pedal a jot faster as he rid himself of the gossiping towns folk. He was so focused that he nearly didn't see a figure crossing the street ahead, and he diligently slammed on the breaks, swerving the wheel to avoid crashing into anything.

The figure let out a small gasp as the car came to a halt nearly inches in front of them and Matthew glanced up only to find that the person he had nearly run over was Mary. Their eyes met, both gasping and out of breath as the realization of what they had just avoided hung over them.

"Who taught you to drive like that," Mary murmured darkly, yet the trace of a small smile lingered upon her lips.

"God Mary, I'm so sorry," He breathed, jumping from the car and rushing to her side. "Are you alright? I didn't hurt you or anything,"

Mary quickly brushed him off, adjusting her hat and gathering her composure. "I'm perfectly fine." She sniffed, hoisting the large briefcase she was carrying up her waist. "You should be more careful," She added forcefully, examining him with steady eyes.

"I know, I'm sorry. My mind was on…other things," He trailed off, trying to keep his previous thoughts at bay yet doing a poor job. Quickly changing the subject he gestured to Mary's large case. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm walking to Ripon," She replied promptly. "The legal office requires more papers…for the divorce. They need both Richard and I present,"

Matthew raised an eyebrow, "All the way to Ripon? Surely you should take the motor?"

"Mama and Papa have taken it up to London for the weekend," She stated, brushing scuffs of dust from her sleeves as the dirt that had risen from the automobile began to settle.

"Well allow me to take you," Matthew said, gesturing towards the car.

"Matthew I don't think the legal office would be very pleased if I turned up dead," Mary smiled playfully at him, the trace of a smirk dancing upon her lips.

"Nonsense, I'm a decent driver when not distracted," He chuckled, though realizing what he had said, he hastily hoisted her briefcase into the back compartment, taking her hand diligently and helping her into the passenger seat before taking his place beside her.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Mary said, with a slight nervous edge to her voice.

"Don't you trust in my superior skills?" Mathew answered distractedly as he hastily started the engine.

"Let the person you nearly ran over be the judge of that," She replied, clutching firmly to her seat as the car jolted forward down the road, nearly letting out a laugh of glee at how fast they were going. The wind was billowing through both of their hair as they seemed to fly through the fresh countryside, causing Mary's carefully curled up-do to release itself, sending long chestnut waves flying with the wind.

They could barely hear anything with the rush of air circulating past them, though when Matthew glanced over at Mary he saw pure glee etched upon her face, causing his chest to fill with a small sense of warmth. Lavinia may have not appreciated the motor, but Mary certainly enjoyed it.

It was almost disappointing when they drew into Ripon and had to maintain the regular speed limit, wind dying in their ears as they hastily adjusted themselves to look presentable, pulling to the side of the street next to Benson Swayze Legal Office.

"Oh what a state I look," Mary murmured as she glanced at her reflection in the window shield, trying to replicate the up-do she had previously presented yet doing a poor job of it. Eventually giving up, she gathered her hair and tucked it under her hat, small strands of her chestnut locks gathered at her neck, though Matthew thought she never looked better. Pausing briefly she turned to him with a serious look upon her face.

"Matthew…would you mind coming in with me?" She asked timidly. "I can of course understand if you're too busy, but…Richard," It was her only explanation yet Matthew couldn't think of a better one, and he nodded fervently, helping Mary from the car as they both trudged up to the office. Richard stood by the door as they entered, casting Mary a snide look before eyes widened to see who accompanied her.

"What the devil is he doing here?" He hissed, throwing Matthew a look of pure loathing.

There was no time to reply for a legal representative had entered the room, motioning for both Richard and Mary to follow him into the back. Deciding it would be all around better if he waited in the lobby, Matthew removed his hat and took a seat in one of the hastily placed chairs along the wall.

Many minutes, or hours, or days later, Matthew couldn't be sure for it seemed to drag on forever, Mary, Richard, and the lawyer emerged from the room. Judging from the scowl upon Richard's face it hadn't gone as he planned. Bickering with the lawyer the entire way he only stopped when he once again glanced upon Matthew, face resuming his usually state of hate whenever he was around.

"You're still here are you," Richard glared coldly, "After everything you know about her," He rudely gestured towards Mary who bit her lip yet still managed to keep an air of grace about her. "After the dirty Turk, and her dirty marriage, and her dirty affair with you,"

"Yes I am," Matthew replied stoutly, casting a look towards Mary as she pursed her lips together.

But Richard wasn't finished. "And what of your wife, hmm? Is she to be sacrificed upon the altar of your affections? It's plain to anyone with eyes, you don't love her. And she doesn't love you, no matter how sniveling, insolent-"

He had done it. He had taken a step too far. Matthew's fist came out of nowhere and slammed Richard to the ground with a loud crack. He may not have been too good with a rifle, but when it came to hand to hand combat it truly reminded him of why he had survived through training in the army. He made no further moves to impress upon the fight, a punch was really all that Sir Richard deserved, though he wanted to cause him so much more pain. Blood ran from the proprietor's nose as he breathed heavily, crouching over as he tried to stiffen the flow.

Glancing at Mary, Matthew saw that she surprisingly looked rather pleased, of course her hand was placed properly over her mouth, feigning shock, though there was clearly a small look of gratitude in her eyes. The legal representative stared wide eyed at the scene before him yet made no move to prevent it. He clearly saw that the man before him deserved what he got. Motioning to leave, Matthew and Mary where nearly out the door before Richard's cold voice echoed in their ears once again.

"She never told you did she? Funny, I thought her pride would eventually eat her from the inside and she would crack. She's colder than I thought," His voice was muffled and often interrupted by a low rasping noise, though the message was brought across and Matthew froze, realizing who he was speaking of, and it wasn't Mary.

"Lavinia and I laid together," He barked out the words before letting out an unhealthy laugh of mirth before collapsing to the floor, whipping more blood upon his white shirt sleeve, still trying to stem the flow. "Right in my study," He hissed. "She came to me you know. I didn't force myself upon her. She came like a dog obedient to her master,"

* * *

><p>The floor was cold beneath Lavinia's bare feet as she slowly removed every piece of damp clothing from her body until she was left in nothing but her chemise. Even the thin silk of that did not quench her need of air, yet she left it on. She had not entirely abandoned her propriety. Carefully sitting in front of her mirror, she removed the clips from her hair, letting her golden coloured curls fall to her porcelain like shoulders. Her eyes were sunken as she whispered words upon her lips.<p>

"This will be better,"

And the decision she was about to make truly was. With the leap of faith, everything would be lifted from her shoulders. It was the only way out, the only door open. And she had spent the last month convincing herself to take it. Rising from the vanity, she made her way to the dresser. She would not leave a note. There would be no need. Everything was very self explanatory. Why wait for the world to corrupt her? She smoothly opened the top drawer, trying to make as little noise as possible. Of course there was no one at home but herself, yet there seemed to be a lingering need for silence.

Silence would be her last gift to them.

Gathering the rope in her hands she slowly stepped into the hall, feeling quite detached from her legs as they lead her to the staircase. She carefully tied a tight knot on one end of the rope to the banister, then moving her hands to the other end to tie a loop. She adjusted it around her neck. It fit perfectly.

Her breath shallowed as she stood at the top of the stairs. It would take five meager steps before complete silence would fill the house. Five meager steps to fix everything.

One. Her first step was nearly like a breath of fresh air. Memories of a distant Matthew filled her mind; his sweet caress, the feel of his eager searching lips upon hers, the small of his back that arched gently when their kisses deepened to something more passionate. How she loved him, or used to love him at that. Yes, only emptiness lay within her heart, and Matthew did not deserve emptiness.

Two. Thoughts turned to her father, the man that had raised her from infancy without a mother, who had believed in her from the beginning, who had bathed her in every frivolity she had asked for. She sacrificed her good name for him many many years before. She could do the same again.

Three. Richard had somehow worked his way into her mind. What a snake he was, his actions resulting out of spontaneous needs of control. She wasn't sure to pity him or herself more, though she spared him her sympathy. If anyone deserved any sort of regretful emotion it was her.

Four. The rope tightened more upon her neck and her thoughts strangely became reminiscent of Mary. She never noted truly how alike they were, not in personality but pure motives. They both strived for the same thing, for the same prize, and they were both ultimately destroyed by it. As though he were untouchable. She never truly deserved something so holy, so magnificent. It was her turn to step out of the way.

And step once more she did.

And silence was the only thing that greeted her.


	20. Another Road

_AN: Here it is. The very last chapter to a string of misery. Hope I haven't put you all out of sorts with all this angst, hopefully this will satisfy your need for something…happy. Though I doubt it. Thank you all for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting my story and my author's page. Your support is truly too kind. Without further ado, I give you chapter 20._

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><p><em>Chapter XX<em>

_Another Road_

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><p>The ride home was not nearly as cheerful as the coming had been, the shadow of Lavinia's affair with Sir Richard hanging over them like a lingering noose. Matthew's face was unreadable as he gave all of his attention to the road, wordless though a storm was raging through his head.<p>

Every so often, Mary would cast him a fervent look, biting her lip as though expecting him to explode. But his cool was kept, which seemed to make the entire situation even more awkward, as though all the unreleased energy was simply fusing a time bomb.

"Matthew," Mary spoke quietly, resting a reassuring hand upon his arm yet receiving no response. Her throat was dry and she swallowed quickly, her voice sounding foreign and raspy as she spoke. "I hope you do the right thing," It wasn't the best piece of advice, yet it was all she could offer. In a strange way she felt as though she were a different person, immune to the situation as though she hadn't just received the news that her soon to be ex-husband had completely corrupted an already shattering relationship.

"Why? Do you think that Lavinia has done 'the right thing' Mary? Why shouldn't I be furious with her," He too sounded different, as though the information had altered them both completely.

"Because," She stammered, taken aback by the sudden ferocity his voice had taken, clutching tightly to the side of her seat as Matthew absentmindedly hit a fallen tree branch and the motor bounced. "Because I don't want you to," She sounded childish, selfish if it came down to it, demanding that he do her will simply because (as they both knew subconiously deep down inside) that they still loved each other, still cared as much as they had done eight years before, if not even more.

"I see," Was his only response, looking at her out of the corner of his eye before slowing the motor down as they entered town. No more words were spoken as they drove blankly past villagers, whispering behind their hands and gaping towards them, clearly taken aback at seeing such a pair in a car together. Downton couldn't have come sooner and it nearly felt like a sweet release as she bid her cousin goodbye and retreated from the motor, full of everything she hoped to escape.

* * *

><p>Matthew entered Crawley house, Mary's final words to him ringing in his ears. <em>Because I don't want you to. <em> So she knew. She knew of his lingering feelings, of his dark yearning, perhaps even of the fervent dreams he carried with him at night. She knew of his true feelings towards her, towards Lavinia, yet again Matthew wondered if he was very discreet. Perhaps everyone could take notice of his broken relationships, as though he were parading around Downton with a sign that read, "_Matthew Crawley, King of all things dysfunctional," _However if the other's did know, they sure did a good job of hiding it.

Removing his hat, he ruffled his hair, knowing what he must do next. It had been going on for too long, far too long. Why he hadn't ended it sooner, he wasn't sure, perhaps some subconscious motivation, some small lingering kindle of affection towards her that had taken to hibernating in his chest. Whatever it was, it was no longer there, and his marriage with Lavinia had to come to a screeching halt. They had both lain with other people, had both had their share of doubts, had both suffered heatedly in the dead of night. They had done everything but truly love each other, and it was time for their fantasy to come to an end.

"Lavinia," He called into the house, waiting for her creaky response from up the stairs. Receiving no answer he sighed, moving from the hall into the foyer, sticking his head fervently into the drawing room. Seeing that it was barren, he turned from the room and made his way to the stairs, the floorboards creaking heavily under the dead silence of the house.

And then he saw her. Her feet. Her chemise. Her porcelain face. Her glassy eyes. The rope wrapped tightly around her neck. It took him exactly fifteen minutes for him to comprehend, for her lifeless figure to eventually dawn on him.

And when it did, he dropped to his knees and let out an inhuman wail.

* * *

><p>"For she was made from dust, and to dust she shall return," The Preacher's hallow voice echoed around the cemetery, bouncing from graves and the towering somber looking people surrounding the crevasse in the small of the ground, reaching all ears but Matthew's. Face flooded with emotion he couldn't bare to express, he stood plaguelessly at the base of the grave, ignoring the voice of the preacher, a man who didn't know her nor ever would. A man that didn't give a damn who lay in the shallow grave, didn't care that her murderer stood but two feet away.<p>

His ears were flooded, as though he were being drowned, dragged into murky water and clogged with mud and the blood that he had shed. He barely flinched as lifeless dirt was scattered upon the base of the grave followed by more mutterings of supposedly compelling emotion. It meant nothing to him.

How he hated it.

He hated the sympathetic looks they passed him at the dinner table, the expressions of sorrow and how she was far too young yet unwell and urged him not to think it was ever his fault. Yet they didn't know. They didn't know the nights they spent apart, the angry sarcastic oozing words they shot at each other, the sobs he had caused her, the pain he had drove both of them through. They were completely oblivious and he loathed their ignorance.

And then there was Mary. He wanted to run to her, to cry to her, to curl into a small shell like a child and have her stroke him, whisper words of comfort. Yet something held him at the back of his head, something keeping a firm hold upon him, and it was completely relentless. She had approached him one time since the suicide, yet her words whispered with such magnitude still rang through his ears.

"I'm sorry,"

And she wasn't expressing condolences. There was something in her dark eyes, something that told him her confession was not merely based on Lavinia's sudden death.

So completely focused on his grief, he didn't notice the small party robed in black depart from the cemetery, their silent encouraging touches on his back still lingering on the small of his shoulder. When he was certain they had all retreated, when confidence eased slowly into his numbed body he leaned towards the coffin that lay shallowly in the ground, the grave not fully dug. With ease, he opened the casket, the fresh scent of rosemary drifting from the ground. He had watched the village women sprinkle it into the coffin earlier.

She lay peacefully in satin, her red dress reminiscing a drop of blood in the white linen lined coffin. Her eyes remained wide open, for when he saw the funeral arrangers placing coins upon them he shot up and bellowed for them to cease. They seemed to glare, glassy at him as though even in death she could feel his presence.

He drew close to her face, lips parted as he whispered his final words to her.

"The fault was mine,"

And it was.

* * *

><p>Mary clutched fervently at her small pocketbook, wind beating her head as her eyes watered from the chill. However despite the dreary weather, her mission remained the same. Matthew had been avoiding her for far too long, excuses littered before them like a broken road, causing her to tread on eggshells whenever he was near. Yet she had woken up today with a small fire in her stomach, a fierce determination to force him to see logic. For too long he had been torturing himself.<p>

Isobel had informed them at dinner the night before that Matthew had seemingly been thrusting himself into work, rising at four in the morning to leave for Ripon and not arriving home until after midnight. Frustrated by his poorly chosen timeframe of punishment, Mary woke at two and departed the house by three, dressing herself entirely and managing to escape the house unnoticed.

Concealing a nod, she approached Crawley house, ignoring the time of morning, ignoring the relentless wind. Stubbornness had completely overtaken her body and given her a state of drunken power, adrenaline rushing through her as she thrust a fist at the door, completely surprised as it opened on the first knock.

Isobel stood before her, face grim and fully clothed, not a strand of graying hair out of place.

"He's at the pond my dear," She said calmly, as though Lady Mary Crawley arriving on her doorstep at three in the morning was completely normal.

Eyebrows quirking together, Mary spoke with an unnerved edge. "How did you know I would come?"

"Instinct," Isobel answered solidly. "And I saw you coming," A slight smile danced upon her lips, Mary completely oblivious to the view from Isobel's bedroom.

"You haven't slept either I suppose?" Mary breathed, yet felt stupid for thinking that Isobel would not feel remorse for her son's pain.

Isobel shook her head sadly and gazed out in the direction of the small pond that surrounded the outskirts of the village.

"I think he's waiting for you. Really he has been for nine years."

Mary pursed her lips and nodded, ignoring the compelling need to collapse. "Thank you," Was as she was able to muster, and she turned from Isobel and started towards the pond before her face would betray a trace of emotion.

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><p>Matthew dunked his head into the water, completely immersing himself in fluid as the pressure crashed around him, ignoring his need for breath. Longer he held himself, until his lungs felt ready to burst, and he rose to the surface, collapsing himself in air as his bare chest heaved under the pressure. He shook his head, preparing himself for repetition when suddenly a distant white figure caught his eye.<p>

She stood at the edge of the pond, her lips parted and hair disheveled as the bitter wind whipped around her figure, sending chestnut locks to fly in the wind. Her radiance glowed vibrantly around the danky pond yet he ignored her goddess like presence and continued to throw himself back into the depths of the pond, not bothering to question in his mind how she knew he was here, the answer was obvious. Mother.

When he rose again, she called out to him, his own name singing from her lips as he granted himself another look. She looked frantic, wild now, as half her gown was soaked in water and mud from the edge of the pond.

"What in God's name are you doing?" She shouted at him, her voice rising above the sharp wind.

He didn't answer. How could he explain his need for pain, his need to punish himself, to feel just as horrible as she had? It was something unexplainable, something only a compelling force of emotion could control.

"I fancied a swim," He shouted coldly, watching her flinch at the harshness of his words yet immediately feeling guilty. "What are you doing here?" He asked softly, trying to redeem himself.

"I fancied a swim," She bit back tartly, raising her dress higher as she calmbered slowly into the pond, murky water coming up to her thighs.

Emitting a sigh, he started towards her. "Don't. You'll get filthy,"

"I don't care," She answered simply, water rising to her waste as her dress rose around her, spreading behind like raised wings, flapping wildly as she began to swim towards him. She seemed to be completely oblivious to his nakedness before her yet her sharp eyes caught his discarded clothes on the muddied bank and she turned back quickly to him, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't know I'd have visitors," He answered quickly, angry that she had seemingly invaded his small euphoria.

A small silence was kept between them, both gazing quietly at each other, small breaths of air reminiscing over the icy water. "Matthew," Mary breathed quietly. "It's been two months since…" Her voice caught and she trailed off, startled by Matthew's gruffled response.

"Since Lavinia killed herself?" He whispered, his eyes darkening as he realized why she was truly here.

Closing her eyes she continued. "Yes. And I believe your punishment has gone on quiet long enough." Her voice caught slightly as her foot brushed gently against his under the water. It was strangely intimate.

"So you've come to relive me of my suffering?" He bit his lip, watching her as she struggled from response.

"Something like that. And it's painful for me too, not just to watch but to live through," She studied him, trying to see if her understood.

Eyes widened as comprehension once again rested upon his shoulders. "Oh Mary. You don't think I regretted it do you?" He drew closer to her, noticing how violently she was shivering and he held her to his chest. "I could never once, in a thousand lifetimes regret anything I've ever felt for you. No matter what my circumstances were,"

And slowly yet ever so slightly, he brought his lips to hers, crashing down upon her as they effulged against each other, lips searching passionately, reminiscing everything they were deprived of.

In that moment he knew that everything would eventually be alright, everything would mend itself with time, the divorce, the scandal, the suicide. If anything it simply proved that their love for each other had survived everything, a war, a deadly disease, boundaries of marriage, a death. It was invincible, just what he felt with her pressed up against him.

And he continued, for the first time in his life, without a single trace of regret.

**Fin. **


End file.
